nodded. “And every night.”
The next picture showed him standing next to a Black man, also hugely powerful. They were obviously good friends because they had their arms around each other. They both had on very sweaty tee shirts and their hands were wrapped as if they had been boxing. She turned over the picture. The explanation read, “This is me with my best friend, Willie Hawkins. He was my lieutenant when I was a cop. We still box together often. We just finished five rounds when this picture was taken.” She wasn’t exactly sure what that meant.
“I don’t know what ‘rounds’ are,” said Natalya
“You’ll have to ask him.”
She nodded. The next picture was of him standing in front of a large blue truck. The name on the truck read ‘Tundra.’ She knew what tundra was, but why was it on a truck? She turned the picture over. “This is me by my truck.” She made a note. ‘Why is tundra on your truck?’
The next picture was of him in karate pants and a black belt fighting another man. They both had padding on their hands and feet. The man was trying to kick Mike but he was blocking it with his left arm and his right fist was on its way to the man’s head. Neither man had a shirt on. Natalya stared at the taunt, rippling muscles on his chest and arms.
“Make that thirty mares,” said her babushka.
Natalya nodded, “Maybe forty.” She felt wetness start between her legs and crossed them. She cleared her throat and turned the picture over.
“This is me sparring with another martial artist. I ended up knocking him out with this punch.” She translated and her babushka nodded.
“I think you should tell him about that fat pig you pay rent to every month.”
She smiled at the thought and looked at her grandmother. “I wonder who would win.”
Her babushka cackled and rocked backward. “I wonder.”
The last picture was of him in a tailored suit.
“Oh,” said Natalya, “what a handsome man.”
“Is he really walking around in California unmarried?”
She turned the picture over and read, “This is about as good as I can look. I hope I’m not too ugly.” Natalya shook her head, “Unbelievable,” she whispered. Babushka nudged her granddaughter. “Let’s read the letter again.”
She translated the letter again and they analyzed each line, writing down questions to ask him. That night, Natalya hand wrote back to him in English.
Chapter 8
Mike’s advanced karate class, five men and two women, was lined up. They were all either recently promoted black belts or very close to testing. The students had their feet apart and their fists held down and in front of them.
Mike came in from the dojo’s office. He had on black gee pants, the instructor’s black tee shirt with the Ashan Tao logo over the left breast, and his black belt correctly tied around his waist. Mike walked in front of the line and nodded to the senior student.
“Keeyup,” yelled the senior, and all students brought their feet together, dropped their hands to their sides, and bowed to Mike. He returned the bow. He assumed the class had already stretched out - that was the senior student’s job. Mike began taking them through a series of drills.
“Right leg back fighting stance. Move.”
“KEEYUP,” yelled the class in unison as they moved into the position.
“Front thrust kick, back leg round house, spinning back kick, and hop-in side kick. Keeyup on the last technique. Ready, move.”
The class moved in unison, transitioning from one technique to the next. That was the point of this exercise: to teach them to put multiple techniques together while still maintaining the effectiveness of each technique. The united keeyup resounded on the last technique.
He saw some mistakes.
“Opposite direction, same series. Ready, move.”
The class executed the techniques again. With patience and expertise, he made spot corrections for a few students. The rest of the class waited in a fighting stance until Mike told them what to do next.
“Reverse direction. Same techniques. Ready, move.”
He had the class repeat the series about ten times. Then he gave them a new series and started the same process again. Mike believed in repetition and correct execution. When the students got that, the real power of the technique would come.
After about twenty minutes of continual practice, Mike began working them on one of his favorite and most effective techniques. He had the senior student hold the heavy bag while he demonstrated.
“This is a jump spinning back kick. Some of you have done this before. It can be executed at very close range and is a powerful technique.” He faced the bag and jumped up. At the apex of his jump, he spun around, lifting his right knee as he turned. Before he completed his spin, his foot came up and kicked the bag. It was strong enough to knock the person holding it backward. Each of them had already been taught this kick, but Mike wanted to be sure they had it cold.
He broke down the technique into its parts, carefully explaining each detail. He paired up the class and had half of them grab large, hand-held rectangular Redman bags and the other half perform the technique. He watched and made corrections. When he was reasonably sure they had the basics, he added a twist.
He walked over to the heavy bag, motioning for the senior to hold it again. He explained how to throw punches, getting your opponent to think everything was coming from your hands, chamber, or prepare the kick while the punches were being thrown, and quickly execute the spinning back kick before the opponent knew what was coming. He demonstrated. Then he had the pairs practice.
When there was about fifteen minutes left in the class, he announced, “Round Robins.”
Round Robins where when the class paired up and free-sparred with each other. After one minute, they would stop and everyone would move to the right and free-spar the person he or she faced for one minute. During each round, they could use any combination of techniques they wanted. They would move to a new partner every minute until the instructor told them to stop. It was grueling for someone who wasn’t accustomed to it. Mike had them go for thirty-five minutes, twenty minutes past the normal stopping time, but they expected that – Mr. Valentine was known for his grueling workouts.
When he finally stopped it, the students were drenched with sweat and breathing heavily. But this was what they wanted and expected. He nodded to the senior to line them up and formally ended the class by bowing out. After his students left, Mike stayed and worked on the jump spinning back kick for another hour because it felt a little weak to him when he demonstrated it. He always obsessed over the details, forcing his mind away from his family’s death by concentrating on each part of the technique. The more it hurt him physically to perform techniques, the harder he pushed himself. As he practiced, his mind kept returning to Natalya, and he imagined performing this technique to protect her.
When he finally got home, it was almost ten at night. He checked his cell phone to see if he had any messages. He did. There was one from his mother checking to see if he was OK. She was always worried when he didn’t call her for a couple of days. There was one from his brother who had found someone to build the retaining wall Mike wanted in the back yard. And there was one from Donna. Mike was surprised, especially when he listened to it.
“Hi, baby, this is Donna. Where have you been? I’ve missed you. Call me when you get this. I’ll be up. Bye, bye.”
“What’s up with that?” he said out loud.
He didn’t want to call her back but he wanted to end whatever she thought was going on. As far as he was concerned, he had a woman. He looked up her number and dialed it.
“Hello.”