Prologue
Copyright ©️
I'd been in this room a countless amount of times.
Cold air, stiff chairs, long waits.
A few months ago, they'd added faded blue cushions to each chair. They were a close match to the functional couch against the left wall. I'm pretty sure the new cushions were made for outdoor lawn chairs but they did their job of making the wait easier. Instead of the familiar sound of pacing around the room, the men that arrived before me were quiet in their chairs.
"Hey guys,"
A mumble and a grunt find my ears as I take the chair closest to the door. When it shuts, it takes the warm draft with it. A loud noise follows the hit it makes to the doorstop. Small pockets of warm air wave in through the opening to hit my arm. The hallway doors are propped open, giving the humid outside air a closed space to circulate. The AC blasts over head, making goosebumps arise from the constant assault of changing temperatures. The cushion slides to the back of the chair as I sit down, the backs of my thighs rest against the cool metal. A stack of magazines sit on a low table in front of me. We're all early. As usual.
"Nik." The deep and gravelly utterance slips into my ear. A hand touches my shoulder. Black walks in with a blast of warm air, dark wash jeans and a tshirt the color of his name. Dark eyes meet mine for a short nod. "Black." A quick grab to the top of his hand in greeting before Richard-- who makes sure everyone knows his preference for being called Rich, reaches his own out. Behind Black, Rich has a hand on the open door and a smile on his face.
"Hey man" a grey sleeved arm passes my vision. A firm hold of my hand and then the door hits the stop.
Black stoops to flip through the magazines at the table while Rich walks around him to find a seat across from me. "Did you hear what kind of training it'll be?" He groans as he settles into his seat.
None of us have. We've been speculating for days. Every other month a new and specialized military training happens a few hours away. Its an open enrollment week long training that gathers everyone who responded 'interested' to the email sent the week before. Rich's veteran dad got him interested, Rich got me interested. Every month, military lieutenants and commanders from different branches host a training for a week long immersion. Rich calls it "the military without the military." The instructors are usually lieutenants or commanders who specialize in the subject which is the only clue we get as to what we might be offered to learn.
Rich's eyes are on Black, who gives a soft shake of his head. Black was a man of few words. Greetings were his only constant. I knew I would only hear a sentence from him today, if anything. He'd spend the rest of our time together silent and Rich would continue to seek out his opinion for more nonverbal responses.
"Nik?" His questioning eyes fall to mine.
I skimmed the email a bit less than usual this time. "I think its a close range training."
"Black," Rich lightly calls when the dark clothed man straightens. A motorcycle magazine is folded in his hand. His dark eyes stop their search around the room to turn to Rich's light ones. Rich nods his head to the seat beside him. "Yeah, that's what I heard too. You think its guns?"
"I'm kind of hoping for a gun training." My eyes follow Black's saunter to the chair.
"Of course you are," He knocks a knee into Black's when he's fully lowered himself into the chair. Black retaliates with a placid opening of his magazine. "A gun day is what you'll get. Like 3 hours."
My responding hum is uninterested. "I'm going to sit out of this one then"
"You're signing yourself up for 7 days alone"
"I'll join a running club" I lift my shoulder in a half shrug. A choppy draft of air tickles my cheek and I drag it across my shoulder. Faint footsteps filter in through the doors opening. The end of an equally faint and pleading whisper tapers into my ear. "... do it?"
Rich chuckles "Runs and guns. Man, you need some new hobbies."
"... can't. I don't ... 7 days" the second voices gets louder along with the footsteps. It's low, like he's trying to be quiet. Quiet and earnest. There is a misplaced touch of mirth at the end, like the man isn't accustomed to communicating without it.
My mouth parts to voice my disagreement, "No-"
"You know this is something I'd agree to if I had time." The voice is clearer now, its clear enough that when my breath falters and my ears strain, there is no confusion as to why. It halts in my lungs at the clear and low tone. The sound brings a rush of goosebumps up both my arms and my heart takes a pause from giving me life.
"Any day is fine. Don't tell me I gotta go in there and tell those young men no" the other voice is heard as a frail mumble against my limited senses.
When the response comes, "Put me down," his voice rewires my heart into overdrive. Its fully reaching out of my chest now. Its loud to my searching ears, the strain they give to hear his next words is redundant. "I'll text you if I can make the full thing."
~
Nikoli has always had a strange way of finding himself interested.
He has a small list of ways he wants to spend his time. A small list of people he wants to spend it with. And an even smaller list of ways he would find himself interested. His interest in running came during his fifth run. Two summers ago, Rich invited him along during his 4 mile morning runs. On their fifth run, Nik continued on alone to add another mile. He felt strangely relaxed. Euphoric. The morning, the running made him more focused and motivated. He could keep his body moving forever. He could run forever.
His attraction to his first girlfriend started with her laugh. It was always a few moments after the event and as loud as it was contagious. When passerbys got sucked into joining, they would have no idea why they were laughing.
Nikoli liked the wait. He liked the anticipation. It was always better after the pause.
Which is why, when the pleading man from the hallway enters to offer a sign up sheet for a hand to hand combat training, he's the first to say yes.
