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takemedancingmaine · 6 years ago

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What, Like It’s Hard?

“You're here early.”

I jumped at his voice behind me.

“Sorry,” he chuckled as I stepped out of whichever one of the warrior poses I was in and turned around, working to catch my breath. It was one of the few yoga moves I knew.

“Holy fork, Brian,” I took a deep breath and wiped my forehead. I had been doing a yoga warm up. With the shakeup to my workout routine, I was trying to take precautions.

“You're here early,” he said again as I rolled up the mat I’d been using and followed him over to the other studio, the one we used for his class.

“I'm a little tense,” I told him, watching as he set his bag down and pulled out an old iPod, one of those black bricks with the circle trackpad. I smiled at the sight of it. It had been a while since I'd seen one of those.

“Mentally or physically?” He asked, his eyebrows picking up and a smirk falling onto his face. He pulled out a stretch band and handed it to me as he plugged in the music. Some Chet Faker started playing through the studio’s sound system.

He pulled out another stretch band and began demonstrating a move for me as he waited for me to answer.

“Both,” I admitted to him.

He nodded and transitioned to a move to stretch my shoulders, knowing that mentally and physically they'd be the tightest bit of me.

He was right. I could feel my shoulders all day at work today, had constantly been rolling them to try to ease them even a bit.

Louis had asked if I'd slept funny last night at one point today. We’d been eating lunch together at his desk and he kept eyeing me, noticing the tension. It wasn't so much the secret I kept, for the most part, I was getting better at compartmentalising that, but when I compounded that with the kickboxing class, I was unbelievably sore.

It was something I hadn't thought about when I had signed up for the class. I was pretty limber, but constantly having my guard up, constantly throwing punches and jabs in class, and the effect that would have on me didn't register with me until after I'd done the workouts for a few weeks.

I just knew I needed to be stronger and before this, I hadn’t had a reason to stretch my shoulders in such a way. Which was why I so greatly appreciated Brian’s intuition.

“How's that going, by the way?” Brian asked.

“How's what going?” I feigned ignorance.

He shot me a dark glance in the mirror.

I rolled my eyes and sighed, holding the stretch pose, regaining the composed breathing as I sunk my body into the move.

“I still haven't told anyone,” I mumbled out.

“Really?” He asked.

Last week after class I'd confessed that he was the only one that knew that anything had even happened. He was shocked, to say the least, but he didn't say anything; he kept his opinions on it to himself.

Brian was a good person. He was patient with his class, intuitive, and wasn't judgemental. I appreciated his company for the hour a week I was around him. Ever since that first class when he let me participate and then partnered himself with me I got the feeling that he was genuine.

It was clear to anyone that Brian cared for each and every individual that took his class. He learned each of our names, took the time to listen to us and learn our fears and concerns, was working with us so that we genuinely felt better, empowered.

He seemed to take an extra beat for me, clearly understanding that my reason for being in the class wasn't about prevention but about regaining a sense of my own security that I’d lost that night. I didn't have to say that, he just knew, and that was lucky because I wasn't sure I could say that out loud even if pressed to.

“I'm not going to tell anyone.”

“Just me,” he eyed me again.

“Right.”

“I have a sneaky suspicion that if your bruises had healed you wouldn't have told me either,” he smirked.

I nodded.

“Well, that's probably why you're so tense,” he said sarcastically.

He gestured for me to release the pose and showed me another. It pulled, almost uncomfortably, but I knew that would be helpful in the end result.

“I started the morning kickboxing classes after it happened,” I filled him in.

“Oh, Riley’s class?” He asked. “She's great!”

“Yeah, but the class is literally kicking my butt.”

“So it's not just from stress then,” he nodded in understanding. “She’s a bit of a badass. I've taken her class a few times. She really pushes you.” He paused. “Are the classes another way of building yourself up, then?”

I nodded. “I used to run every morning, and I still do on the weekends, but I did switch into them once it happened, yes.”

“You struck me as a cardio person,” he told me. I raised an eyebrow at him and he caught my curious glance in the mirror. “You struggled a bit the first week, but last week you didn't even waiver during the cardio sessions of class. The first week was just because of your throat injury.”

I didn't give him the satisfaction of being right about the injury slowing me down.

“What did happen?”

My breath hitched for just a moment before I gathered myself. I didn't look at Brian, directly or in the mirror. Instead, I looked down at my feet and bit my bottom lip. I could feel my pulse pick up and tried to think of things that would calm me down.

What worked to do it was the thought of Louis bent over a tray of cookies, icing them and singing to himself. He liked singing, especially when he worked.

I could picture us in the bakery, the warmth from the ovens, the smells of whatever he was baking, the sounds of customers up front chatting and eating… it was all enough to distract me from my momentary fear of telling someone what happened.

Because when it came down to it, Brian knew but he didn't really know. Didn't know it was at my home, my safe place. Didn't know just how alone I'd felt. Didn't know the terror that gripped into me and held me immobile and unable to really fight back. The terror that was gone from my mind until I was forced to think about it.

“Right,” I heard him say and I looked up with the tone of his voice. “I will not ask that again,” he gave me a reassuring look in the mirror.

“Thanks,” I mumbled sincerely and he nodded. “What are we doing in class today?” I tried to make my voice as normal as possible.

“We’re gonna discuss and review some of the tactics to being more preventative, and then we’re going to do a small amount of cardio--just a warmup this week--before we get into proper boxing techniques. Fighting stance, punching motions…”

He trailed off as I nodded.

Last week Brian had gone over little things that would keep us safer in the event of something happening, or to take it one step further, prevent things from happening in the first place.

For instance, try not to wear your hair in a long ponytail or braid when going out. It gives a potential attacker a way to grab and hold you. If someone asks for the time while you're walking, don't stop walking even if you do tell them.

We went over things like how being in crowds is actually safer in some ways in that muggers don't like that many potential witnesses if things don't go smoothly for them. We talked about how if you're being threatened with a weapon for your wallet, throw your wallet a good distance from yourself. It gives you time to get away while whoever is after it goes and picks it up.

We talked about how being aware of your surroundings and people when out in public is a bit like when you use your mirrors while driving. You should look every so often and always know where someone is in relation to yourself. We even covered obvious things like never wear headphones while out and try to stay in well-lit areas.

“For the most part,” Brian was saying now, “you don't have to fight someone who's trying to cause you harm. If you show them that you're unafraid and that you have even a basic sense of how to fight back, they'll back off.”

“That's helpful.”

He nodded. “It really is. Especially given that actually fighting should be seen as your last resort.”

I nodded, aware that he was right. Sometimes it was unavoidable, but fighting should always be seen as a last resort. Plus, as he often pointed out, reacting violently could sometimes escalate the situation.

We were learning how to defend ourselves but also learning how to avoid situations in which we’d even have to defend ourselves. I think the fact that Brian was brutally honest about that balance, about the fact that the goal of leaning these tactics was so we would never have to use them, was one of the reasons we all like his class so much.

Not once did he disillusion us about our safety and where we’d be at the end of his class in a few months, but he did care and was genuine and I did enjoy how empowering the classes were.

“What do you do besides teaching self-defence, Brian?” I asked now, shifting the conversation as he transitioned from stretching our shoulders to opening up our chests with a few dynamic moves.

“I’m a law student at Northwestern,” he told me. “In the summers I work as an associate at a firm in the Loop.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah,” he nodded.

“What kind of lawyers do you want to be?” I asked.

“A defence attorney,” he smiled. “I like the challenge.”

“I understand that,” I said. “Completely.”

“And if you tell anyone that I wanted to be a lawyer because I watched Legally Blonde with my sister when we were younger then I'll deny it until my dying breath.”

There was a breath, a pause where everything in the world seemed to stop. And then the world began spinning again and I began to laugh.

I laughed so hard that I had to stop the quad stretch we were doing because I lost my balance and almost fell over.

“Ohhhh, my god,” I was trying so hard to catch my breath, but the indignant look Brian was giving me was only adding to my laughter.

“I'm sorry,” I said eventually once I'd calmed down. “I'm sorry,” I said again. “I don't think there's anything wrong with that. I actually really admire it. I just didn't expect it.”

He smirked and we got back to stretching. “I had to spring it on you somehow.”

“You said it knowing that I would laugh,” I gave him a grumpy face. “You said it hoping I would laugh so that you could make me feel bad.”

“No,” he smiled. “Okay, maybe.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “That's diabolical,” I shake my head. “I like it.”

He laughed. “Thanks.”

“Do you enjoy it though?” I asked. I'd had to justify my career choices to a lot of people, so I figured I'd ask if he liked the path he was on.

“I do,” he nodded with a smile. “It's great. It's challenging and--without patting myself on the back--I honestly feel like I'm good at it. It's a lot of work, so much work, but it's fun.”

His face lit up. He really did love it. Without a doubt, he loved it. It made me smile.

“And what about you, Ruby? What do you do?”

“I'm an accountant and business manager for my friend’s small bakery chain,” I switched from stretching my right to my left leg. My right leg was much more flexible. The left hurt. It was clearly tenser than the other.

“You work for a bakery?” He asked.

I nodded as he watched in the mirror. “And in one.”

“Your willpower must be tested every day,” Brian gave me an impressed look.

“My willpower has definitely been put through the hoops,” I agreed. “It's a rigorous daily exercise, which is also why I do rigorous daily exercise.” I smiled.

He laughed.

“I do sneak treats occasionally,” I admitted to him. “And only in moderation. But it's hard,” I shrugged. “Some days are harder than others, too. Depending on what Louis is baking that day.”

“I can't imagine,” he shook his head with a bit of a laugh.

“In all seriousness, my job is pretty great though,” I said. “I get to put my economics degree to some use in a way that doesn't suck out my soul and I get to work with one of my best friends.”

“That does sound pretty amazing,” he nodded. “You're living the dream, Ruby,” he said before showing me back into a warrior pose. Now that I was a little more limber and loose, I felt the stretch pose deeper than I had when I'd tried it alone before.

“So, it seems, are you,” I took a deep breath to settled myself in the stretch, felt it as much as I pushed myself to.

“Yeah, you could say that,” he shrugged, but there was a grin on his face that told me he believed it. His schooling might be rigorous and tiring and never-ending, but he clearly enjoyed it. That was plain as day.

We were silent for a few minutes as we continued to stretch ourselves out side-by-side while we waited for class time to roll around.

Just after pushing into the full cobra position, we both noticed as one of the women from class came into the studio, followed by another, ready to start. Brian nodded at me and we held the stretch for a few moments before he got up and then went to fill up his water bottle.

“Thanks.” When he came back over, I handed back the stretch band I'd used and with a nod back at him, I started to turn away to get ready for class. He grabbed my arm gently to hold me back for a moment.

“Would you do me a favour, Ruby?” He asked. He came close to me and I got the idea that Brian could be intimidating if he tried. He wasn't, not even when he was this close to me, holding me back. His presence wasn't intimidating. Instead, it was comforting.

I'd never had a big brother, but with the stand-ins of Louis, Liam, and Harry I knew just how important they could be. At this moment, even though I didn't know Brian all that well, I felt like he was trying to protect me.

I nodded. “Yeah. Of course.”

“Will you at least consider talking to someone?” I made a face and was about to pull from his grasp when he spoke again.

“I know you don't want to. I know you really don't want to,” his earnest look made me check my breathing and calm down despite my serious distaste for the words he was saying. “But I need you to think about it. I know how much talking to someone--me, her friends, a therapist--helped my sister and I can see how much this is weighing on you.”

I made a face.

“No,” he said. “Don't give me that. I know what you're going to say. I can physically see the difference in you before and after class. I just want what's best for you and I think, despite your hesitation, that talking can help you, Ruby.”

I just took in his words and nodded.

“Okay.”

“Okay, you'll think about it or okay you hate me now?” He asked cautiously.

“Just okay,” I said. “And I don't hate you,” I added.

He nodded and gave me a small, reassuring smile.

“You still plan on keeping my secret then?” He asked.

I laughed, an image of him as Emmett from Legally Blonde popped into my head.

He blushed and narrowed his eyes.

“Your dream of becoming Elle Woods is a secret that is fully safe with me.”

He put both hands over his heart and sighed before signing ‘thank you.’ I gave him a nod.

I went to set up my mat and wait for class to start while thinking over the class itinerary Brian had told me before.

Even with his request, he had successfully lightened my mood. It was then that I realised he was trying to. I was so glad I'd found Brian’s class after what had happened to me.

“Yes, mommy,” I sighed into the phone. It was my sister Mehar’s fall break from school--she was an honour student in her junior year at SLU--and my mother had hijacked the phone call halfway through our conversation.

So now, Mehar was sitting next to her phone that mom had put on speaker, and was watching the conversation. She would have this slightly indignant look on her face, but it would be masked just enough so that mom couldn't call her out for it.

Mom had transitioned from asking me question after question about my eating habits and the weather and my friends to talking about home life, not even trying to be subtle that she was trying to guilt me into coming home to visit.

She was just finishing a story about how my dad was cleaning the gutters and how I needed to remind my landlord to clean mine out as well, otherwise, it would be too late and the weather would turn nasty before they could be cleaned.

To which she’d added that I needed to come home and see just how much work dad had done around the house. I could practically see Mehar sat next to her rolling her eyes.

My parents loved that Mehar was close to home for school. They loved that she planned on staying in St. Louis to become a realtor. They adored that she had never had a long term boyfriend--although they didn't know what I knew, which was that Mehar got around a lot--and that she'd been a model daughter in their eyes our whole lives.

I was a good daughter, did what I was told and then some. Until I decided to go to college far from home. And then decided not to get my master’s degree right away. And then decided to move to Chicago for a job both my parents had deemed beneath me.

My mother would try to guilt me into coming back home to visit in hopes that I would stay. I'd go home once every few months, and if Diwali and Holi corresponded with weekends I would go home for those celebrations, but I wasn't incredibly fond living in St. Louis, wasn't incredibly fond of living any nearer to my parents than I already did.

“I assume you're not coming home for Thanksgiving then,” my mother said now. I could hear the sigh that my mom held back, the one she had at her disposal if she needed it. I could practically see Mehar rolling her eyes. I know I rolled my own eyes at our mother’s tactics.

“I should be able to,” I told my mother now. Mehar and I had rolled our eyes because this was the third year in a row that we’d gone through this routine of mom continually asking me if I was going to make it home for said holiday--months in advance.

“I'll have to take a plane. I just have to figure out if I can get there late Wednesday night or if I’ll need to leave early Thursday morning instead. I’ll have to fly back out late Thursday either way though.”

I finally got up from my spot on my counter and pulled out my tub of vegan ice cream. I just wanted a spoonful or two after a long day. Between kickboxing this morning, work, and Brian’s class and now the phone call with my mother? I definitely needed something, and I reserved my whiskey drinking for the weekends alone.

I didn't want to break that just because my mom had started in on the holiday guilt early.

“I have a hard time believing that your boss can’t handle the store for four days without you, Ruby.”

And there it was. Louis transitioned from my friend that mom had asked me about before to ‘my boss’ and my mother’s tone was as bitter as it was clear. I bit my tongue and hit my forehead against my fridge door before I moved to grab a spoon and jumped back up to my spot.

“Well, I’ll work all that weekend,” I told her. This was the third year in a row I was having this conversation. It felt like I was reading from a script at this point. The same words, but I’d maybe change it around a bit each time so as not to sound too repetitive and impersonal.

“I’ll have that Monday and Tuesday off instead because of the holiday rush,” I explained. “People get together the day before Thanksgiving, people get together that weekend. It’s one of our busiest times, and with all of the other holidays right around the corner, I’ll fall behind if I don’t keep up. It’s not that Louis can’t run the bakeries alone, mommy, it’s that I can’t fall behind.”

She sighed and I heard a rustling in the background, probably Mehar shuffling uncomfortably because she’d been forced to listen to this. She couldn’t risk her unlocked phone falling into our mom’s hands though, so she had to stay put and stand watch over it.

“I can come home for a few days in December,” I said now. My mother hadn’t bothered responding to my explanation so I took it upon myself to keep the conversation going. “I’ll be home from the 25th to the 30th,” I added.

“Okay,” my mother said now.

I knew by the clipped tone that she was done with that part of the conversation. Disappointed in the circumstances and by extension me for having chosen these circumstances for myself.

“I have to go fold the laundry now,” my mom said. She followed that up with a quick, “Main tumhe pyaar kartii huun,” and I heard her leave the room before I could say ‘I love you too’ back.

Mehar picked up her phone and I heard her whisper, “One moment.”

I heard an open and then close of a door and before I heard her say anything else.

“She’s been in a mood,” Mehar said now.

“But you're home,” I said confused before I shoved some ice cream into my mouth.

“She was in a mood before I got home,” she groaned. “I walked in the door and she started in on me for my hair not being washed and for my nail polish being all chipped. She even poked my stomach and made a tutting noise and walked off mumbling how I’d never find a husband if I keep eating like I do. Ruby, I’ve lost weight since I’ve last seen her. And then she and dad made some comments about how you’re not seeing anyone and they’d be lucky if either of us ever got married and they could be rid of us. … I just want to go back to school and I only got home yesterday.”

“Hang in there, Me,” I took another spoonful of my ice cream and waved the spoon around a bit, gesturing with my hands as I spoke even though she couldn’t see me.

“You know how mom gets. She’ll be all conflicted about you being home so she’ll come off as brash and rude and then once you leave she’ll be sad and upset that you don’t visit more and that she never gets enough time with you.”

“It would help if you were here,” my sister said now, and I hear the longing in her tone, undisguised. “You always know what to say.”

“Or I just take all the attention away from you,” I countered her point. “I would be getting the same treatment as you if I were there. You would be spared, though because they can only focus on one of us at a time, apparently.”

“Well, I’m sure mom’s riveting conversation about the gutters being cleaned has really instilled a yearning within you to return home,” she laughed.

I closed the carton beside me and laughed with her. “She is trying her hardest to get me home.”

“She’s only succeeding in pushing you away,” she said.

“She's not pushing me anywhere. I like where I am. I'm not running from anywhere and I'm not running to anywhere. I'm happy where I am, Me.”

“I get that,” Mehar said now. “I am happy for you, Ruby, even if I miss you.”

There's a pause where I thought of saying something along the same lines back to her, but she started talking again. “Also, I know you won't tell mom if you are, but have you been seeing anyone?” She asked now, her voice all high pitched with hope.

Immediately I thought of Niall and just as soon as his image flashed in my mind I banished it and shook my head, almost as if I was physically trying to remove it from where it had popped up without my consent.

“No,” I told her. “Not seeing anyone.”

“Oh come on, Ruby,” my sister complained. “You can tell me!”

“Oh, just like you tell me,” I countered.

“I tell you things.”

“That's bull, Mehar. You don't tell me crap about the boys you go with. I find out because you post stories on social media that you probably shouldn't but are too drunk to care about at the time.”

“It's not my fault you don't use any social media!” She countered. “How else am I supposed to find things out about you?”

“I don't know, maybe ask me?”

“I am asking you,” She pointed out. “You're not telling me.”

I laughed at that. “Fair point,” I gave her that win. She deserved it.

“Alright,” I said. “What do you want to know?”

“You're really not seeing anyone?” She asked.

“I'm really not,” I told her.

“Okay,” there was a pause while she thought of more. “Wait, not even Louis? I mean, from what I've seen, Ruby? He's gorgeous.”

I made a gagging sound. “No, no, no, nope. Not even a little bit, okay? No. Ew. Please don't bring him up again in that context. Ever.” I bit back my vomit.

“So, no?” She asked, just to get a rise out of me.

“No.”

“Okay,” I heard her inhale deeply. “Well, have you thought about using dating apps?”

I thought of Cleo's latest misadventure and shuddered.

“I've thought about it, but I don't know. I'm not really that fond of the idea. I'll keep an open mind though if I do decide to use one.”

“I think they're great,” she said.

“I know you do,” I smiled ruefully to myself.

“Hey, I'm living life, having fun, doing whatever the fork I feel like, Ruby. I like sex,” her voice lowered when she said that last part. “Sue me for it.”

“I can't. I like that you're comfortable with yourself.”

“Thank you,” her voice lifted and I could hear the pride. “So you'll think about it? I don't like that you're up there all alone.”

“I'm not alone,” I defended myself. “I have friends.”

“It's not the same, Ruby.”

“You wouldn't know, Me. You don't really have any one either,” I countered. It was harsh, but my sister was not the kind of person to get offended easily.

“Fair, but I still don't spend my nights alone, either,” she said. I could hear the implications of her tone even if I didn't need to in order to understand.

“Right,” I nodded.

“So anything else new?”

It was then that I realized this was the first time I'd talked to my sister since my attack.

“Nothing,” I lied easily to her. Maybe it was the added bonus of it being a phone call, or maybe it was the three weeks I had spent lying to my friends that made it easier. “Literally nothing new.”

“That sounds fun,” I could hear the disgusted tone in her voice.

“Oh come off it,” I groaned. “I do things and go places. I hang out with friends. I have a life, but it's not like I took a trip to Europe or went to see a Broadway musical and kept it from you. I don't really have anything big going on right now.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Mehar admitted.

“Yeah?” I asked rhetorically. “That's kind of what being an adult is about. Big things for me are when I discover a sale on cute dresses at that one independent store I love on the Mag Mile or when I get to Lakeshore early enough to get a spot to hang my hammock and spend the whole day just relaxing.”

“I have to admit, both of those things do sound pretty big,” I honestly couldn't tell if Mehar was teasing me or not at that point. Which was saying something; I knew my little sister pretty well.

“I don't need your sarcasm,” I got up off my counter and put away the tub of ice cream and then, after putting my spoon in the dishwasher, I flicked the light off in my kitchen and went to my bedroom where I flopped backward onto my bed.

“I'm not being sarcastic,” Mehar said. “I do need to go though. I'm going to meet up with Ashley and Nicola after once mom and dad fall asleep and I have to start getting ready.”

“Ohhhhh, sneaking out,” I tutted. “I see not much has changed.”

“What they don't know won't hurt them,” She sang right back to me in a singsong voice. “I'll talk to you later, Ruby! I love you.”

“I love you too, Me,” I said back and then I heard the phone beep.

I was lying in bed for a bit after the call ended.

My parents and I had a good relationship despite the strain of recent years. Until I went to college we'd had a wonderful relationship and I knew they were proud of me, but it would be nice to hear them say it once in a while.

It's not that I disliked time with my parents now. It was just that it tended to add stress to my life. I do love both of them, and nothing beats my mom's homemade samosas and eating a pile of them around the table with my sister, or sitting on the front porch reading and watching my dad meticulously mow the front lawn so that each line was perfectly straight.

I didn't necessarily want them to find out about my sister's nightlife, either because that wouldn't do either of us any good. Maher in a bad light would not colour me any brighter. It would only taint both of us.

I got up and while I was brushing my teeth I went down and checked that all my doors were locked. I sunk into my bed and felt the exhaustion seeping into me, my bones when my phone buzzed.

Cleo was asking the group if we were going to meet up this weekend and what we should do. It could wait until morning. I wanted to take advantage of my exhaustion and my clear head, the clear head that came from going to my self-defence class. I couldn't risk lying awake half the night tonight.

I turned off my ringer and went to sleep.

#I really like this chapter #it's a bit different #no Niall but family and Brian are always wins #plus #LOTS OF NIALL next week #ugh that boy #fic: oth #fic: only ticket home #OTH6 #niall horan fanfic #1dff

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