Finding Myself Abroad

Chapter I

I am an only child. I was a difficult pregnancy. My mother had to stay in the hospital several days longer than normal after giving birth to me. My father had left during the pregnancy. He couldn't take the stress of constantly having to take my ma to the hospital and doctor. 11 years into my life, and not once has he even bothered to write, call, or even check up on us. It's just me and ma against the world. We don't know where he is. We don't care. It's a hard life, harder for some than others.

Being a premature baby, I was thin, small for my age, and always being picked on for "being different". I don't know what that meant. I do know that from a young age, I had to learn to fight. I didn't know how I could learn. Sure, nonviolent methods of resistance are good, but some people only learn once they've had their butt kicked. I was always on the loosing end of fights because I didn't know how to fight back. The group of guys who picked on me were smart enough to wait until we were off school property to have a go at me. Fighting on school property wasn't allowed of course. Each time I was surrounded, I hoped for a miracle. Even a small one, such as not having to explain a ripped shirt to ma. She didn't have the money to constantly be buying me now clothes. She didn't have the time to constantly be sewing and patching things up.

We didn't have much money, the hospital bills put a strain on the finances of ma's family after my father walked out, and finally they grew fed up with paying and cut her off. She worked two and sometimes three jobs to get by. I didn't see her often when I was home from school. But no matter how tired she was from work when she came home, she'd come into my room, pull the covers up, and kiss my cheek. Sometimes I was awake and we'd talk for a minute until I fell asleep. It was our version of a bedtime story. Until I learned how to do laundry, she always made sure I had clean clothes, a bed, and food in the fridge, even if it was just a sandwich and salad on a plate covered in plastic wrap sitting on a shelf that I'd see when I opened the refrigerator. There'd always be a note saying she loved me. You know how moms can be.

As a result of our finances being in a pinch more often than not, I was used to cold air during the winter because we didn't use the furnace much to save on the gas bill. We lived in the basement of an apartment building so it was cool in the summer heat. So, I learned patience. I learn to tolerate discomfort, to suffer quietly. When I came home with fresh bruises, or a new shiner that shut my eye, I didn't complain. I'd accepted it as a fact of life. I hid these from ma as best I could. She had enough on her mind. It wasn't until gym class when we ran outside on a cold day I learned that exercise would warm me up when I was cold, even if I was shivering.

Sitting on the carpet one day after school, with a fresh black eye, I was watching the movie "The Karate Kid" it was the old one, with Ralph Macchio and Pat Morita. Ma had a small combination television and VCR from her college days, and movies were my friends. The movies were old. We didn't have a DVD or Blu-Ray player. Too much money. Didn't have cable or the internet either. Too luxurious. I was watching Johnny constantly pound on Daniel, and I didn't want to be like Daniel. I wanted to be like Johnny and his gang. Not be a bully, but know karate, really really know it, so I could defend myself. The wheels began turning in my head. If one person could speak multiple languages from all over the globe, maybe there was a way for one person to learn multiple karates as well. I didn't know if that was the correct phrasing, but it made sense to me in my young mind.

Using the remote, I'd pause and rewind the fight scenes, wishing I had a sensei like John Kreese to teach me. I wanted to strike hard. I wanted to have no fear. I wanted no defeat.
Then it hit me! If I couldn't learn from sensei Kreese in person, I could learn from the movie. It's watching someone preform it like in real life. All I had to do was imitate it.

Standing up, I shoved my long blond hair out of my eyes. It was always long as haircuts cost money. It was free to let it grow. I made sure I had enough room before mimicking the jab punch. Left foot forward, left hand in a fist and in front. Right hand in a fist, and cocked back to bring it forward, thumb on the outside.

I did the punch slowly at first, getting a feel for the movement, letting my muscles get used to this new activity. Not wanting to hurt myself, I slowly built up speed over things next few minutes until I was going as fast as possible. Knowing the walls and ceiling of our apartment were thin, I didn't do the yell. Yelling "Ee-yah!" could have gotten me in trouble with our neighbors. Ma had enough to handle without our apartment being taken away for noise. I found it silly anyway. My focus was to be on hitting and hurting my opponent, not screaming.

I had no way of measuring how hard I was hitting, or even if I was doing it properly. But it felt good to be able to do something that might help. I practiced for fifteen minutes before resting and then I switched positions so my left fist would be the one striking.

It felt very different. Being right handed, my left punches didn't feel as smooth or strong as my right handed ones did. Turning the movie off, and turning off the television in disgust, I went to the kitchen and got a glass of water. I stood at the sink, drinking it. What was I thinking, trying to learn karate from a dumb old movie? I stared out the small window at the kids playing in the apartment courtyard. They went to school with me. Since I was shunned at school, I was shunned at home if I attempted to go out and play with them. So, I stayed inside. I was lucky my bullies didn't live nearby. 

Catching my reflection in the kitchen window, I realized I looked scared. I looked frightened almost. I saw the black eye, and the weak, scrawny kid that bore it. I didn't want to be weak. I didn't want to be scrawny. I'd often told ma I wished I was taller. She said nothing I could do about it, but hope puberty hit me like a truck in a good way. She said puberty was when the body changes and grows up from a child to a teen then an adult. I was eleven years old, and I hoped the changes would come soon. I didn't care for that dating thing. It took money which I didn't have. Older kids seemed into that. They also seemed into kissing girls. I wasn't. I was busy trying not to get hit at school. I wanted to escape and get out of Dodge.

Suddenly, with fresh determination, I went back to the television and fired it up to the dojo scene, when Daniel checks it out because he wants to best Johnny and the rest of the Cobra Kai students that hung out with Johnny.

"What do we study here?" Sensei Kreese asked.

"The way of the fist, sir!" The students chanted in response.

"And what is that way?"

"Strike first, strike hard, no mercy sir!"

"I can't hear you!" Kreese thundered, prowling the ranks of his students like a panther about to unleash a ferocious attack.

"STRIKE FIRST, STRIKE HARD, NO MERCY SIR!!!"

As the students bellowed this answer, I whispered it to myself. Then I said it aloud. Then I said it louder. Louder. Until I was fueled with energy and began practicing again with my left handed punches. Again, and again, I punched and made myself learn to punch left handed. I'd check out all the Karate movies I could from the public library. I'd watch them, mimic their moves and one day, hope to be as good as the fighters were. It was my realization that I could fight back. That I would fight back. That I was no longer defenseless. I may not be able to learn the moves properly, but freak chance of winning a fight was better than no chance at all.

Author's Note: This is my first story here. I hope you like it. It will take place over several chapters, and our young protagonist (deliberately left nameless for now) will grow, and learn about himself (at home, and during his study abroad) as we go through the chapters.  As you may have seen, this story will deal with him discovering his sexuality. I will keep it as SFW as possible, but if this kind of content offends you, or is forbidden because reasons for you, go fly a kite. It's jolly good fun. Since I have to responsibly adult every day, I can't promise a regular update schedule, but I will update until the story is finished. Keep checking back for more! Thanks for reading!  Safety and peace be upon you.