"You feel like a big man now?" Krickett asked, leaning against the wall of his garage, rubbing his cheek with his hand as Boris stood in front of him, looking at him, his hands clenched into tightly balled fists. Chrissy was standing behind him, just watching the two men.
"Get up and fight back, we're trying to prove something," Boris said. "I'm not trying to prove anything, Boris. I'm done," Krickett replied, turning and going through the door that led back into the house. Boris unclenched his fists and looked at Chrissy, who seemed somewhat worried about what had just transpired. Maybe Krickett was right. Maybe non violence was the answer. *** "I haven't been to a school in so long," Boris said, as he and Whittle said in the hall outside the principals office, waiting to be invited in. "I know," she said, "I mean, I never had kids, but I just...I haven't been to a school in ages. It feels awkward now." "I used to get called in quite a bit for Ellen, back when she was in grade school," Boris said, slapping his hands onto his knees and exhaling, "not because she was a trouble maker or anything, but because she had a lot of problems adjusting to school. She constantly asked to be homeschooled and got teased a lot. She just...didn't know how to either ignore it or deal with it herself." "I was teased a lot too," Whittle said, "but I was quite the opposite. I kicked anyone who was mean to me in the shins. Course this meant I spent a lot of time suspended, but my folks were proud of me at least cause I stood up for myself so it all worked out." "Ironic that as someone who dealt pain you'd go into a business focused on healing," Boris said, snickering, making Whittle laugh. "Well, I'm trying to right my wrongs," Whittle said, "My conscience doesn't let me sleep." Just then the door opened and Chrissy was standing there. Her eyes were red, like she'd been crying hard, and she motioned for them to come inside. Boris and Whittle stood up and headed into the room, as Chrissy shut the door behind them and seated herself once again, now sitting between them. Kevin Arnold, the head master, was sitting behind his desk and smiled at them as they sat down. "It's nice to see you two again, even if it is under circumstances such as these," he said, adjusting his tiny round spectacles, "let me just start by saying that Chrissy is an excellent student and a wonderful young lady. This meeting is not about her being in trouble, contrary to what you probably thought. In fact, it's kind of not about her at all." Boris and Whittle glanced at one another, now somewhat confused. "Huh?" they asked in unison. "Chrissy has been targeted by a small group of girls for her unusual living arrangements with you two. They know she isn't living with her family, and they...well they've said some nasty things. Chrissy always comes to me about it, but unless it gets physical there isn't much I can beside mildly berate them for their words. I'm asking you two to come in and help me find a solution." "She should clean their clock," Boris said, surprising both Whittle and Kevin. "Pardon?" Kevin asked, leaning forward, still somewhat in shock at his abrasive answer. "When I was growing up, if someone shit talked you, you punched their lights out," Boris said, "I know it's kind of cave man ethics, but it worked. They left you alone. Nowadays everyone wants the adults around them to take care of their problems, and while most of the time that works and is a perfectly viable solution, it isn't what's going to work all the time. Sometimes you have to take things into your own hands, and then use those hands to hit the other person." "I...I do not condone what he is saying, I hope you know," Whittle said, making Kevin smirk. "I'm just saying that she should defend herself. All we tell kids now are 'sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me' but bullshit, look at how much words hurt. Well, sticks and stones hurt way more. Verbal abuse might be verbal, but it's still abuse." Chrissy tried to hide her grin, but she was having a hard time doing so. "...well," Kevin said, "I don't really know what to say to that. You're not wrong, but you're also not right." "I'm no advocate for violence by any means. War has done more damage than it has helped, but...sometimes it's all anyone responds to, because it proves that what they're doing has actual consequences for themselves. If more people actually felt ramifications for their actions, perhaps things wouldn't be so fucking mean." Chrissy lost it and started laughing loudly, catching everyone by surprise. Kevin asked her to go wait out in the hall, and she did without argument, but she laughed the whole time. This was why she loved Boris. He told it like it was, and that was exactly what she needed right then. *** "Have you ever fought anyone?" Boris asked, sitting across from Father Krickett at the diner. Father Krickett finished sipping his cocoa and put his mug down, smacking his lips and thinking. "When I was in high school I punched a guy who was hurting this friend of mine. He was assaulting her, right there on campus, and nobody would do anything, so I stepped in," Father Krickett said, "of course I was also suspended like he was, but...it felt good knowing I did the right thing." "See, violence does solve something," Boris said. "These days I'm more or less against violence," Father Krickett said, "but yes, in that instance it did solve something." "How can you be against violence? You're part of the church. Your entire religion is based around colonizing and then spreading the gospel, no matter what the cost. More people have died in the name of God than for any other reason." "Just because that's an accurate depiction of our history doesn't mean I abide by it," Father Krickett said, "Yes, the church has a horrible history entwined with violence, violence of all kind, from altar boys being sexually abused to outright burning those at the stake who disagreed with us, but that doesn't mean I by any means agree what what they did." "I wanna teach Chrissy how to fight," Boris said, "She needs to know how to defend herself." "You gonna take her to a gym? Be her coach?" Father Krickett asked, chuckling. "No, I'm gonna fight you," Boris said. "Pardon? You're what now?" *** When Boris and Chrissy arrived that weekend, Boris was surprised at the openness of Father Krickett's garage. He had a nice home, but he especially had a nice garage. And, unlike many garages, it wasn't crammed to the gills with plastic or cardboard boxes full of things he no longer used but didn't want to donate, or holiday decorations that would only get lugged out once a year for a month or less. It was clean, and organized, and it had clear sections. In one area he could tell Krickett did woodworking, and at another was his actual toolbench, while at another was a spot for electrical work. "Wow, this is swanky," Boris said, entering as Krickett handed him a bottle of water, leaving the garage door open so the sunlight could stream in. "It's not bad," Father Krickett said, before kneeling, face to face with Chrissy and smiling, asking, "so, you ready to learn how to hurt others for the sake of your own ego?" "That isn't what this is about, John. She's not going to just go around pummeling anyone she wants. This is to be used strictly in situations when she is being attacked or needs to help someone else. I'm not trying to teach her to go out and mug people or anything." "Well, let's get started then," Krickett said, positioning himself and raising his hands in front of his face in fist formation, "Chrissy, one of the few tips I can give you that will absolutely help is to keep your arms raised like this at all times when fist fighting. This way it not only protects your face, but it also gives you a direct line to their face, granted they're the same height as you are." "You box?" Boris asked. "Did in college, but only for exercise, never like against others for sport," Krickett said. "Everytime I think I know everything there is to know about you, I find out there's more," Boris said. "What about hitting them anywhere besides their face?" Chrissy asked. "It's frowned upon but it's certainly not illegal or anything," Krickett said, "Hell, you're already fighting, you may as well fight dirty. Besides, it's not like fighting has morals. Oh sure, some sportsman would like to tell you that there are rules, but let's face it, fighting is wrong to begin with, so that argument goes right out the window." "If it's wrong, why do it?" Chrissy asked, looking from Father Krickett to Boris, who was now positioning himself in front of the priest. "Because it's important to know how to defend ones self," Boris said, "Especially for a woman, who more often than not are taken advantage of and attacked than men because they're seen as more vulnerable. This is partially why knowing how to fight matters, because an attacker often won't expect a woman to be able to take him. They may expect her to fight back, but not in a way that could actually stop him." "He isn't wrong in that fact," Krickett said, jabbing at Boris, who immediately dodged it, surprising the priest with his flexibility and agility given his age; Krickett continued, "women are, sadly, seen as weaker, which couldn't be further from the truth. People love to talk up Jesus Christ, but Jesus wouldn't exist without Mary, so I think women deserve far more praise than they're given." Chrissy smiled and continued watching. "Everything comes back around to the church for you, doesn't it?" Boris asked, throwing a punch that connected with Krickett's side, before jabbing again and catching him in the chest, throwing him off balance, making him stumble. "Well," Krickett said, "Boris, it is my lifes work after all. But it isn't just about women. Lots of people can't defend themselves the way they need to. Minority groups, for one example, are often also targeted for simply being nonwhite or non heterosexual, which puts them at real risk for danger as well." "This is true," Boris said, as Krickett threw a punch that hit the old man in the shoulderblade, causing him to swear momentarily under his breath until he said, "and that's a problem, definitely. All these people should know how to defend themselves." "Unless they don't wanna bring themselves down to that level of cruelty," Krickett said. "Cruelty? How is defend yourself cruel?" Boris asked, the two men throwing punch after punch at one another, both often dodging, but sometimes a punch connecting. "Because the fact is you shouldn't be being attacked often enough to warrant a defense," Krickett said, "The real thing that needs to be taught is civility, not violence." "Yeah, cause hateful people love a good conversation about togetherness," Boris said, "Trust me, Chrissy, it's important to know how to protect yourself, whether it's moral or not." "Chrissy," Krickett said, stopping for a moment and looking at her, "you don't have to defend yourself. Your personhood doesn't require defense. You exist as you are, and that should be respected no matter what, and I know that it isn't and that that's the problem but-" And suddenly he stumbled back against the wall and felt his cheek pulsing, red hot and somewhat swollen. "You feel like a big man now?" Krickett asked, leaning against the wall of his garage, rubbing his cheek with his hand as Boris stood in front of him, looking at him, his hands clenched into tightly balled fists. Chrissy was standing behind him, just watching the two men. "Get up and fight back, we're trying to prove something," Boris said. "I'm not trying to prove anything, Boris. I'm done," Krickett replied, turning and going through the door that led back into the house. Boris unclenched his fists and looked at Chrissy, who seemed somewhat worried about what had just transpired. Maybe Krickett was right. Maybe non violence was the answer. Boris looked at Chrissy, who seemed somewhat shocked, before excusing himself and heading inside after the priest. He found Krickett standing in the kitchen, holding a cold steak against his cheek. "A steak? Really? What era are you from?" Boris asked. "Don't worry, I'm gonna eat it," Krickett said, seating himself at his kitchen table and sighing, "...Boris-" "John, I'm sorry. That was low of me," Boris said, "I just...I feel like I hurt Ellen, and I don't want to see Chrissy get hurt too." "What you did wasn't intentional, that was an accident." "Rationalizing it doesn't make the guilt go away," Boris said, "I just want her to be able to take care of herself. We're not always going to be around to fight her battles for her. She's...she's a great kid, John, she needs to know how to be able to defend herself from those who think she isn't." "When I was in college, I was attacked for being gay," Father Krickett said, "I knew how to fight back, sure, but that didn't stop it from happening. Why double down on something as evil as violence? Yes, minority groups, women or people on the LGBTQ spectrum are more at risk, but after that happened I...I just didn't want to fight anymore. It just seemed so...barbaric. These people use physicality to back up their outdated viewpoints. The hate isn't just mental, it goes all the way to their actions." Boris sighed and rubbed his forehead, seating himself and chuckling. "Hell of a family she's got, isn't it?" Boris asked. "At least she knows people who are willing to go to bat for her," Father Krickett replied, "that alone means more than you'd think. A lot of people don't even have that. She knows how to defend herself, Boris, just not in the way we think of." The two men smiled at one another and sat quietly in the cool kitchen for a few minutes. "So, you wanna stay for dinner?" Father Krickett finally asked. "Not if you're serving that steak," Boris said, making him laugh out loud. *** Monday morning, Boris told Whittle he'd drive Chrissy to school, but first he was going to take her to breakfast. He picked up Father Krickett on the way, and the three of them went to the diner they often frequented. They ate breakfast and checked over Chrissy's homework, praised her for her work, and then piled back into the car, heading towards the school. As Chrissy thanked them and got out of the car, heading across the street, Father Krickett smiled. "She'll be okay," he said, patting Boris on the back, "don't worry." "I try not to, but that's what a parent does, worry," Boris said, "Even if I'm not her actual family, I worry." They suddenly noticed another girl and a small group with her confront Chrissy, but they couldn't hear what anyone was saying. After a few moments of tension, Chrissy looked at her feet and it looked like she was about to cry. Boris felt his insides burn, and he wanted to get out of the car and berate the girls, until Chrissy suddenly hit the girl square in the nose, throwing her to the ground and making her cry. Chrissy then continued on her way into the school. Father Krickett pumped his fist and high fived Boris. "That's our girl!" Krickett shouted. "What a woman she's gonna be," Boris said, laughing as he started the car, "Come on, let's go get a beer."
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Golden Years follows the exploits of a bunch of old people in a retirement home as they try to have fun, relax or come to terms with the soon to be end of their lives. Archives
April 2024
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