Fanfare
Copyright© 2022 by Lumpy
Chapter 27
Chef never made it down for my practice. I knocked on his door when I finished conditioning, dripping in sweat, and he told me to just go home and he’d talk to me later.
I messaged Kat’s disposable phone when I got home letting her know I’d talked to Chef and he was working on it, but that I didn’t have any answers yet. I also tried to add in some encouraging words to hopefully break through the anxiety I knew she was feeling, waiting to find out what her fate was. That was one of the worst parts of this, not being able to be there and help her through it.
Chef did call later that night, but it was to tell me that he couldn’t do training the next day. I’d hoped that was because he needed to do something about Kat, but part of me was worried he might somehow still be pissed that I hadn’t just gone to him weeks ago, despite what he said.
He hadn’t canceled Tuesday’s training though, which I took for a good sign, or at least I did until I walked into the kitchen and Vinney told me he was waiting for me upstairs.
It turned out he wasn’t alone. Sitting with him were two women I’d never met.
“See, right on time,” Chef said when I knocked and stuck my head in. “Just like I said.”
“Okay, but we need to make this quick. I have a home visit in Canton in an hour and a half that I can’t miss.”
“Sure. Charlie, sit down. This is Teri Coats, she is a social worker with child protective services and that’s Donita Leighton, she’s a lawyer with the National Child Abuse Prevention Network.”
While I knew Chef had to get CPS involved, Kat’s panic over them had rubbed off on me a little bit and I felt the pit of my stomach tighten.
“I understand you have a friend you think is being abused. Is that right?”
“I know she is. She’s come out and told us she is, and that it’s been going on since she was little. We’ve also seen the bruises from when he physically abuses her.”
“And she told you to not call us when you found out, correct?”
“Yes. She has a condition and she’s afraid if she ends up in the system, she’s going to become a target for people who could take advantage of her.”
“Yes, I’ve spoken to Dr. Rothstein and he’s explained what he could.”
“He did?”
“Doctors are allowed to break privilege to authorities when they feel a patient is in danger of immediate harm, which he believes she is,” Chef said.
“It’s a little trickier here, because she’s not technically his patient, but he was able to explain in the abstract what dangers she faced when being placed in a new environment.”
“Okay.”
“Before I speak to her, I wanted to ask you some questions, to make sure I have the facts available to me before I speak with her family. So she has told you explicitly that she’s being sexually and physically abused, correct?”
“Yes, ma’am. I didn’t want to hear details, but I know it started shortly after her mother died. Her father told her she owed it to him, since she was the reason her mother died.”
“Why does he think that?”
“She was playing in their car when it started to roll back. Her mom got there and yanked her out of the car and she was caught in it, or pulled under, or something like that. I wasn’t clear on the details. The mother died and her father blamed her for the death.”
“And it’s kept going since then?”
“That’s what she said. She sometimes has bruises on her face that I think is from him hitting her, and one time I know for sure, because she said he hit her after she told him she wouldn’t sleep with him. When he caught me with her by the baseball field after school, he was about to hit her when I got in between them.”
“How do you know he was about to hit her? Did he raise his hand?”
“No. He was kind of charging at her. He’d told her to get in the car and she said no, and he started screaming at her and came charging around the car and I stepped in between them, which made him back down. That’s when he pulled her out of school.”
“And you said there were people watching her at home?”
“Yes. There’s a woman who was a friend of her mother’s who she calls her aunt, although she isn’t. Her father told her she got caught doing drugs and was trying to sneak out and get more. As far as I’ve known, she’s never taken any drugs.”
“Does anyone else have knowledge of the abuse aside from what they’ve heard from Katherine herself? Do you know if anyone’s witnessed it?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t think so. You have to understand, he’s considered an ‘upstanding citizen’ around here and is friends with lots of people. It’s why we were worried about going to the sheriff.”
“I understand. I think I have what I need to at least start my investigation. I have to run, but I’ll call and let you know what I can,” she said, giving Chef a kiss on the cheek and showing herself out.
“That’s it?” I asked.
“It’s a process, Charlie,” Mrs. Leighton said, speaking for the first time. “Mrs. Coats is a good person and she’ll make sure your friend gets help. I’ve explained about her situation and your concerns, and she says there are options aside from the foster system.”
“I’ve known Donita for years now, and she’s here to make sure Katherine doesn’t get lost in the process. She’ll also make sure that she gets help after she’s removed from the home.”
“At NCAPN, we believe that abused children don’t just get magically better when you take them out of the situation they’re in. We understand that they have lasting trauma that needs to be addressed, and we work to make sure they get not only the safety they need, but also the financial, medical, and professional support they’re going to require to recover.”
“You said there might be a way to not put her in the foster system.”
“In this case, it’s unlikely she’d go into the foster system unless there’s no other option, since she’s only a minor for a few more months. The first thing they’ll do is try to find relatives that had no hand in the abuse. If that’s not possible, they will look for interested parties that are deemed responsible enough to take temporary custody until the child turns eighteen. It’s only when those two options aren’t available that they’ll put someone her age into a group home, where she’ll basically just wait out the last few months.”
“I think her only relatives are her mother’s parents, but if I remember correctly, they’re both really old and one might already be in a nursing home.”
“We’ve started looking at that and some other options. I know you want to help your friend, but these things need to be handled through a process to make sure her rights are protected.”
“What about her father? Once he knows he’s being investigated, can’t he just take her out of state or something? I mean, the police aren’t going to stop him, especially if he’s got a friend on the force.”
“You can’t move to another jurisdiction to avoid the allegations. We’re a national network and the case would just transfer to whatever jurisdiction he moves to. Besides, in a case for an older child like Katherine, if she requests to be taken out of the home and the allegations are specific and serious enough to warrant it, child services will often do that on a first visit, if they have a place to put her. We’re working on that now so that when Mrs. Coats does finish her initial pre-contact investigation, she’ll have removal as an option.”
“Okay. I guess I’m just worried about her and what he’s going to do. He flew into a serious rage when he saw us together. I wouldn’t put it past him to hurt her more than he has so far.”
“That’s why we’re here. You did the right thing in calling me for help,” Chef said. “Now you’re going to have to trust us to do what’s best for Katherine.”
“I know. It’s just hard. I want to be able to help her, but I feel so useless.”
“You’re not useless. You have to realize that sometimes things are outside of your ability to handle, which is especially true while you’re still young. If you want to help, make sure your friend knows to cooperate with Teri as best as she can. Especially if she’s as nervous about having CPS involved as you indicated. The worst thing that could happen is she doesn’t cooperate, in which case they’ll have to just go on what her father is sure to tell them.”
“Okay, I can do that.”
“Good. Now go down and warm up. You’ve missed enough practice.”
The rest of the week passed without any word from Chef, Mrs. Leighton, or Mrs. Coates and I started to get worried again. I did trust Chef that they’d be able to find a solution, but I didn’t trust her father wouldn’t do something drastic once he found out she was being investigated, or that the system would work perfectly and get her out of harm before he could do anything.
I’d tried to ask a few times what was happening, but Chef just told me these things take time and I had to be patient. The problem was, the two-week deadline for her going to the private school was half over and, as far as I could tell, nothing had actually happened yet.
It just made it worse each day when I had to come to practice and not really be able to talk about Kat’s situation.
Chef had a whole plan to get me ready for the tournament, and Sunday’s part of the plan included having me spar with a partner again. He hadn’t mentioned that partner was Victor, however.
“Hey man, how’s it going?” he said, coming over to shake my hand.
“Good. Chef didn’t tell me you were who I was sparring against today. Here I thought I’d have an actual shot.”
“Hey, you might still. It’s been some time since I was out last and I hear you’ve been working hard. I was just telling Chef I have to be careful or you’re gonna cut arse.”
“I’m what?” I said, confused.
“Sorry. I went home last month and spent a few weeks. Whenever I go back, I always bring a little Trini back with me. It means you’re going to beat me in a fight.”
“We both know that’s not going to happen.”
“Not with that attitude it’s not,” Chef said, walking down the steps from his apartment carrying two mesh bags, one with something blue and one with something red in it.”
“I’ll wear the helmet, but I’m not puttin’ on the rest of that mess.”
“I was planning on just helmets and gloves. It’s all he’ll have on in the ring, and anything else will slow him down.”
He set down the sacks and pulled out a padded helmet that looked like it covered the sides and back of the head with flaps that went down and over the cheeks. It wasn’t that firm or hard, and I couldn’t imagine it would absorb that much off of a blow. When he’d said gloves, I’d been expecting something like boxing gloves. These really only covered the front of the fingers and the knuckles, coming together when you formed a fist. The padding was closer to a hard kind of foam, instead of the big, cushioned materials you find in a boxing glove. If this was what I had in the ring, neither of these would do much to keep me from getting hurt.
“These’ll work,” Victor said, pulling on the gloves.
I gave him an unsure look but started to pull them on until Chef stopped me.
“You need to warm up, first.”
He was right. I was so distracted I almost forgot it. Chef had made it clear from day one that I had to get my muscles warmed up and stretched before starting any sparring or training, to keep from getting hurt. I went through the routine while Chef and Victor talked off to the side, watching me but not commenting. I assumed Victor had already been working out, since he was sweaty despite the cold temperatures.
“Ready?” Chef asked when I finished my final lap around the clearing and jogged over to them.
“If you mean am I done warming up, yes. If you mean am I ready to spar against Victor, no. Not really.”
“That’s Charlie, always joking,” Chef said with a laugh as he started to slide the helmet over my head.
I was pretty sure that wasn’t what people said about me, but Victor seemed to get a kick out of it. We moved into the center of the large concrete pad and faced across from each other. Victor was bouncing on the balls of his feet, back and forth, almost like a wind-up toy, and was smiling.
“Go,” Chef said, and it was like someone had flipped a switch on Victor.
He exploded across the concrete at me, his left foot snacking out in a snap kick as he bent sideways, causing it to come in at me from the side. I’d forgotten how fast he was. I shot my arm out, catching him at the ankle and pushed up as I stepped back, forcing his kick to slip past me close enough that I could feel the wind as it passed my chest. Even as his foot was passing me, he dropped, his body falling as it twisted, and his other leg hooking out, catching me on the back of the knee.
I wasn’t expecting it and was already off-balance, because of the step back to avoid the kick, and went down hard. Victor finished his rolling drop, landing on his back and popping back up, bouncing away from me. I was suddenly glad for these foam helmets as my head banged off the concrete. It still hurt like hell, but at least I hadn’t split my skull open.
I got up much slower and less showy than Victor and got set in my stance again. As soon as I was set, he came snaking back in. I blocked a hook and shot out a jab that I hoped would put him off balance, but he was ready for it, juking his head to the side and letting my fist sail right past his head. He used his momentum well, twisting his body slightly as he dropped down and to the right slightly, putting power into a hook right into my stomach. I fell back and dropped to my knees, sucking air. He hadn’t pulled it even a little bit and it felt like a baseball bat had hit me in the stomach.
For a second I had the sensation that I couldn’t bring any air in that happens when you get the wind seriously knocked out of you, almost like I was in a vacuum and there was nothing to breathe. Chef came over and checked on me, but I was starting to get short breaths in again by the time he knelt down, so he knew I was okay.
“Jesus Christ,” I managed to get out.
“Get your breath back and we’ll talk,” he said to me before turning to Victor. “Take a few minutes break while he recovers.”
Victor nodded and walked past me for the restaurant, giving me a reassuring pat on the shoulder. Of course, considering he’d just kicked my ass twice in under a minute, I’m not sure how reassuring it really was.
It took a few more minutes but I finally pushed myself up, taking long, steady breaths. My stomach felt like it was on fire. Victor was a machine and his punches felt like being hit by an iron rod more than a fist.
“I told him not to hold anything back. You’ve done really good since you started training, but you’ve ended up in a few fights with kids who didn’t know what they were doing. I know you aren’t one for overconfidence, but I wanted to see what a serious fight against someone with training would be like.”
“It’d be like I’m going to get my ass kicked,” I said, not terribly happy he’d done this and given me no warning.
“If you play into his game, you will. When you first get into a ring, you need to size up your opponent. If you’ve never seen them fight before, you use the first couple of clashes to get a feel for what they have and how they fight. What are their strengths and how do you deprive them of those strengths? What are Victor’s strengths?”
“He’s fast as hell and he hits like a ton of bricks.”
“Okay, and do you think continuing to try and fight the way you have been so far will do well in countering those strengths?”
“No,” I said, stopping feeling sorry for myself for getting walloped so bad and starting to actually think through what he was saying.
“Are you going to try something to counter those strengths?”
“Yes,” I said.
Chef went back inside and I stood still, looking at the ground, playing through the first fight the two of us had and our short clash just now. I had an idea, but it might have been a bad one.
“You okay?” Victor said, stopping when he came up next to me and putting a hand on my shoulder.
“Yeah, you just got me pretty good with that shot.”
“Sorry man. Chef said I needed to go all out for your training, but I don’t want to hurt you. Are you sure you’re okay to keep going? I know Chef wants you to advance your training faster, but if you’re not up to this, we can call it now.”
He wasn’t bragging or trying to be insulting. I could see it in his face that he was genuinely worried I might get hurt and was concerned for my well-being. For someone who’d just kicked my ass, Victor was a really good guy.
But I also wasn’t throwing in the towel that easily.
“No, I’m good to keep going.”
“Okay. I’m not going to pull back, so if it’s getting too much, call it. Don’t let yourself get hurt.”
I nodded and got into a stance, ready for him.
Chef gave the word and he came at me like a bullet, taking a short leap as he came towards me, fist in the air to put both his body weight and gravity into his punch, which if it hit, would probably drop me. Instead of trying to block or counter it, which would have been the normal move for this, I took a step diagonal step back and to the left, causing him to land partially bent over, his back, head, and shoulders all in line with his fist close to the ground.
As soon as his fist passed me, I moved, tackling him in the mid-section, wrapping my arms around his midsection, pushing him over. I used my arms to twist him as we dropped, so he basically landed on top of me, kind of lying perpendicular across my stomach. As soon as we started to land, I put my left foot against the back of his right knee and locked the foot into the crook of my right knee, and grabbed his foot, pulling it towards my chest.
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