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I slow down, cackling by the time she catches up to me. She makes a weak attempt to punch me in the shoulder.
“You’re an asshole.” She laughs, completely out of breath.
“Ah, Cele, just wait ‘til tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“You’re going to learn how to defend yourself because that weak ass punch isn’t going to cut it.”
“Fucking great. Give me at least a day or two to recover first.”
Laughter erupts from my chest. “Yea, Cele, whatever you say.”
* * *
“My legs feel like jelly, my arms won’t rise… How the heck do people even go to the bathroom after a session like that? That instructor was insane,” Celeste complains as we walk out of the gym I found for us to train at.
“They go very carefully.” I don’t disagree with her. It was an intense session but well worth it. “Don’t worry, Cele. It gets easier.”
We walk a few blocks before I pause in front of a shooting range.
“Let’s stop here.”
She looks up at me in confusion. “Here?”
I open the door to the shooting range and smile broadly. “Here.”
She stares at the building before taking a deep breath and walks inside. That small movement reminds me of Ivy so much; always reserved, but followed along, anyway.
We check in at the front reception area and wait for our instructor. I had booked an appointment for us a few days ago. I know about guns, mainly from Alik and Mack, but I wanted Celeste to learn from a ‘professional’.
We had conversations back at her family’s cabin about guns, and while I fully respect that she’s against them, I also believe that knowledge on this topic is important.
The instructor greets us and brings us through a second set of doors, past the indoor shooting range, and into a private room. She explains the ins and outs of gun safety, the mechanisms, how to clean them, and the different types of ammo before getting us back to the range.
I purchase ammunition for Celeste’s Smith & Wesson Shield EZ .380 and my Smith & Wesson Bodyguard .380 while the instructor sets up our target. It’s bittersweet to watch as Celeste pulls the trigger for the first time.
A year ago, she would have never walked in here. The thought makes me wonder… is Elijah right? Is everything that’s happened on me? Am I toxic to the people around me?
My wayward thoughts fall further down the rabbit hole as I see Ivy, young and carefree, in my head. Am I really the reason she’s gone? I shake my head, allowing her memories to dissipate, and look down at her body double.
Celeste’s first few shots are terrible, but after a few failed attempts, she starts to get the hang of having the gun in her hand. Every shot she takes, her confidence in her ability grows. After a few more shots, I face my own target and pull the trigger. The bullet doesn’t quite hit center, but I would have definitely injured any perpetrator. The release I feel from pulling the trigger is empowering.
I start to really let go, imagining that it’s Ryan that I’m shooting instead of a paper target. The asshole is trying to blame me for his decision to shoot Micah.
I put my gun down, shaking my hands out and stretching my neck from side to side. I allow myself to dig further into my psyche on what I truly want. I pick up the Smith & Wesson, and this time, I imagine that it’s Isaac fucking Jackson at the other end of my gun. I can see him like a conjured ghost with black eyes and the devil’s grin, and my aim has never been truer.
After a few more rounds of emotional release, our ammo runs out and we decide to call it a day.
“Thank you so much, Evie. I’ll admit, it was way more fun than I thought it would be.” The shine in Celeste’s eyes is a welcomed sight. It’s been a while since I’ve gotten to see her light up.
“Music to my ears. And for the record, I’m rarely wrong.” I bump elbows with her and smile.
She returns the smile. “Whatever, asshole. I’m starving. Can we have dinner out tonight?”
I put my arm around her shoulders. “I thought you’d never ask.”
6
