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He reaches out to hold on to my upper arm again. He’s not squeezing. It doesn’t hurt. It seems like the gesture is mostly to hold my attention. “You don’t seem to understand this yet, but we’re not living in the world we used to know. Dave and I are trying to hold off the decline as much as possible, but the more precarious our circumstances, the less civilized people are going to act. So last year after your dad died, yes, I made the best decision I could to keep you safe. Better for men to understand you’re off-limits than for there to be a free-for-all to get you.”
His words make a certain kind of sense. I know very well that the world down here isn’t the world we came from, but it doesn’t feel that dangerous. People still mostly act like people. Not animals. But the logic of his words slices into my fury. I picture the eyes of those men who have always creeped me out. I take a step back, forcing him to loosen his grip on my arm. “It’s not… it’s not that bad, is it?”
“Not yet. But it’s getting worse. We put out a lot of fires we don’t publicize. The old rules that held our society together are pulled so thin now that it doesn’t take much to snap them. So yes, I acted in a heavy-handed manner that wasn’t entirely fair to you. And I wish I hadn’t had to do it. But we’re not in a world where an unprotected woman can live on her own and be safe. Even down here. You would have been too big a temptation, and not everyone would have cared about your consent. Things are changing and not for the better.”
His words and his tone and his expression are intense, almost fierce, and it cools off the rest of my anger like a wave.
What I’m left with is a formless anxiety that makes me tremble. I hug my arms to my chest.
I want my dad so much my shoulders shake.
“Shit, please don’t cry.” He reaches out like his first instinct is to comfort me, but he drops his hand before it touches me.
“I’m not crying,” I tell him, speaking mostly the truth. I clear my throat and take a raspy breath. “Okay. I guess I kind of get it. I’ve still felt safe here, but maybe that was ignorance more than security. But you’ve ensured that I’ll never be anything but alone. How can I ever find a partner and be less vulnerable if you’ve made sure no one will ever dare to get close to me?”
He blinks. It’s one of the few unguarded responses I’ve seen from him. “Is there someone you’re interested in? If there is, let me know, and I’ll make sure he knows it’s okay.”
There isn’t anyone I’m interested in. Not even Ben anymore. It’s more the principle than the practicalities at stake here.
But maybe I’m grasping for trivialities when the stakes are actually life and death. Maybe I really am the foolish, spoiled princess I’ve tried so hard not to be.
“I don’t like any of this,” I whisper. It feels like an admission. Like a risk.
“I know,” he murmurs, more gravel in his soft voice. “I don’t either.”
It takes me a minute to pull myself together. I breathe deeply. Tighten my arms across my chest. Close my eyes and try to get back to the bleak, calm stupor I’ve been living in for the past year. It wasn’t good, but it was basically safe.
It doesn’t come back.
It won’t return even as I mentally reach for it.
Grant said earlier that I’m entirely vulnerable, and that’s exactly how I feel right now. Like I’m perched on a ledge, threatened with a devastating fall in every direction. I can’t live like this. I have to do something to answer it.
“Can I ask a favor?” I’ve thought of something and need to say it before I chicken out.
Grant has been quietly waiting for me to pull myself together. He straightens up at my question. “Of course. What do you need?”
“Can you teach me how to defend myself?”
He studies me closely without answering immediately.
“Please? I don’t like feeling this way. I don’t want to be this vulnerable. But I don’t know how to shoot a gun or punch someone or get away if someone grabs me. Can you teach me? Please?”
I don’t know why he hesitates. It seems like something he’d want me to learn. My being stronger would certainly make his job easier. I’m relieved when he finally gives a slow nod. “Yes. I’ll teach you.”
“Good.” I give him a little scowl, feeling more like myself than I have for ages. “It’s the least you can do after ruining all my dating prospects.”
* * *
I meet Grant at seven thirty that evening at the shooting range. He’s got a small gun picked out for me already, and he shows me the basics of using and taking care of it. I don’t get very far in our first lesson, but I do manage to pull the trigger and hit the general vicinity of a target.
Then we go to a private room the guards use for drills. Grant lays down a mat and starts teaching me self-defense.
I want to jump into some actual moves, but he thinks it’s better to start with a strong foundation of fighting skills. So we spend forty-five minutes practicing basic punches, blocks, and kicks.
I’m in great shape from swimming, but this is repetitive and tiring, and it doesn’t feel like I’m getting anywhere. When I mention this, Grant asks me curtly if I thought I could learn an entirely new skill in one sitting.
Of course he’s right.
