“Right, hold the punching bag,” I comment, throwing my head in the direction of the large red bag hanging from the ceiling. When he nods, I head over, and gear myself, ready to really release a full assault upon the inanimate object.
For many years, Enzo and I have worked out together like this. He’s trained me to be physically stronger than ever, to maintain a healthy fitness regime, but until now, I thought that was enough to keep me safe. I realize had I known more self-defense when Big Al attacked me I would have kept myself safer, but I allowed myself to be hotheaded and believe I was invincible. Now, I’m going to make sure I never get caught that unaware again.
The gym is a large white room with pale pinewood flooring under the house. The side of the house was dug out to allow one whole wall of windows to flood the room with natural lighting and offer another way into the acres of space surrounding our house. It’s always been filled with the most up-to-date, hi-tech exercise equipment. Even better is the sound system. Usually it’s blasting some mad mix of music, but today, Enzo and I have had it down low, conversing about everything and nothing all at once.
Lately, I needed just a big brother, and he, yet again, is that.
But for now, I want to punch my emotions out. As he prepares the bag, I allow every cognitive thought to take control of me and begin to torture me. I ready myself, stand appropriately, and begin to punch. Each hit radiates up my arms, my receptors responding deliciously as I pick up a pace and set myself up to really accelerate my stamina. I lose all control, pounding fist after fist into the object, and as I begin to feel the sweat coming alive and running down my back in tiny beads, I know I’m working up the right sort of storm.
And as I really feel the burn in my chest from overexertion, one voice breaks it all – Bruno’s.
“Can you quit a moment so I can borrow you both?” he calls out, and I stop, completely breathless to look at him. He looks at me with a smirk. “I would ask for a hug, but you’re looking a little too sweaty for my liking.”
“Thanks,” I say breathlessly, as I fall into the nearest seat over on the far wall and grab my bottle of water from the side. “To what do we owe this appearance?”
“Enzo told me you wanted to up your self-defense, so I thought we could make it a little fun,” he comments and backs out of the room. Curiously, I watch him; he doesn’t leave the room, just reaches around the doorframe before coming back. “Right, so I thought we could show you some proper technique, but first, this.”
Bruno throws a large, long stick at me. I smirk, knowing exactly what he’s up to. Years ago, when he was a tyrant with an anger problem, Enzo taught his twin how to hone in his aggression. The pair would battle it out. They trained together in martial arts and excelled in many areas, but Bo-Staff was the one and only thing that seemed to help Bruno zone out. For hours, I could sit and watch him work his body to the limit, music up loud, and he would never, ever drop the staff.
“No rest for the wicked,” Bruno comments as I look at him perplexed as to what this has to do with me. “Enzo texted and said you were starting some self-defense so I thought I’d bring this along.” He gives me a wink. “If a fucker’s going to beat you, I want to make sure I’ve had a hand in teaching you something decent.”
“What are you trying to say?” Enzo asks, coming over to us. “I can’t train her myself?”
“Calm it,” I attempt to defuse the pair and stand. “But you and I know Bo-Staff is all about being prepared for your opponent’s move. You’ve got to be on point, prepared, and mentally ready to be one step ahead.” He then looks at me. “I never want you to be caught off guard.”
“I’ll watch, but I am not even going to start with martial arts!” I exclaim in horror, looking at the staff in his hand. “I’m more than prepared to make sure that I know how to poke a man’s eyes out or cripple him with one grasp of his cock, but I won’t start learning Bo-Staff.” I then giggle and tilt my head to the side. “Feel free to change my mind on the matter, though.”
I goad the moment, but only because I used to love watching these two work out this way. The agility, the composure, the balance and control – it’s always been mesmerizing. I hand the stick over to Enzo and head over to the sound system. I grab my iPod and find the perfect song. As AWOLNATION’s ‘Sail’ comes to life, I increase the volume and turn to face the pair.
“Impress me,” I remark and saunter back to the leather couch in the room. As I fall down, I turn the music up once again and watch as both of them turn to one another.