▪️Saturday, December 19th, 2017▪️

▪️Los Angeles, CA▪️

The ride only takes minutes. The traffic on the highway does not impede our progress-I weave between the unmoving cars and find our exit. Angie's hands grip my waist, and the out-of-place feeling that accosted me in the lobby subsides. I should've brought more smart office clothes. I don't own a suit and going places I'd need one was not the plan. The pair of khakis I wore to the Friendsgiving Bash and a nice button down are the extent of dressy I have with me. Shopping is always an option, I guess.

"What's this place?" She takes her helmet off and passes it to me. "It doesn't look too Christmassy."

"Chinatown." I put both her and my helmets away and run a hand through my hair to get rid of the helmet head. Her two braids don't seem to be impacted. "We should come here during the Chinese New Year. The parade is amazing."

"I love parades, all things winter holidays really." She smiles at me, and it feels like a test. Like the answer will determine the course of the rest of the day. The rest of the trip.

"I noticed." I take her hand, and she wraps her fingers around my palm. "You have a little bit of Christmas everywhere with you."

"My favorite holiday." She swings our arms as we walk. "Never long enough."

"My mom and her parents are Greek, so we celebrated Christmas twice growing up. Once on December 25th and once on January 7th."

"Two Christmases? I'm in."

We stop in front of a nondescript white building.

"Our first stop." I gesture to the number 628 W. College Street.

"A dental office?"

"Well, now it is. The notoriety comes from it being a Jun Fan Gung Fu institute in late sixties. D'you know who the founder is?"

"No clue." She shakes her head. Her braids fly about her shoulders. "Didn't even know it's a thing."

"Oh, it's a thing." I strike a pose and say, "The art of fighting without fighting." No recognition flickers in her eyes at my quote from 'Enter the Dragon'. I lower my hands "It's a mixed martial art." Her stare remains confused. "Bruce Lee established it?"

"Bruce Lee. Like, the actor?" Hope peeks through her voice.

"He was an actor, yes-" I tread carefully, not to kill the light in her face "-but he had this whole martial arts philosophy."

"Philosophy? Didn't he die super young?"

"He did." How do I explain this to her? "I'm a Bruce Lee fan. You were looking to find out more about me. That's a key piece of information."

"You want to be an actor, like him?"

"No way, no. Dad spoiled the movie business for me. That's way too volatile and unreliable of a career, but I've studied several martial arts because of Bruce. When I was in middle school, I started exploring other styles. I wanted to learn Jun Fan Gung Fu, find a studio and train, but then the divorce happened. We moved to Chicago, and that remained a dream."

"Can't you do it now?"

"I don't know. I haven't thought about it recently. My priorities changed." My life changed when we moved to Chicago. I had no time to dream.

"If it's special, call some places. See if they'll take you. Maybe you can squeeze in some private lessons."

"Maybe."

"It's worth a try." She finds my hand and resumes swinging it as we continue down the street, away from the former studio. "What else should I know about you and Bruce Lee?"

"Well, I'm not his biographer, but I've seen all of his movies and not once." She looks up at me and with her smile, she encourages me to keep talking. "The first one was when I was six and Dad watched it for research for a movie he was writing a script for. I thought then that Dad's job was the best. Who wouldn't like to watch movies as part of their day and get paid for it? I didn't quite get what he did then."

I never talk about my father to people. Even Ben knows the bare minimum I portioned out over the years. I run my thumb against the top of her wrist. The feel of her skin relaxes me even more. I want to tell Angie, but I don't want to spoil today. I'm here to treasure every minute with her, and I'm not going to waste time on my father. "I choose to stay out of his life like he stayed out of ours, because at this point it's best for all of us. Separate lives, separate bank accounts, separate living space. These days I'm glad he is here, and we are in Chicago. Much harder for him to interfere in anything that's none of his business."

"Aren't you seeing him for Christmas?" Her eyes search mine.

"I promised Mom." And regretted that promise ever since. Even a day with him will be torture, but I keep my promises. "That's not what I was talking about. Bruce Lee. A much more interesting topic."

She knits her eyebrows and lifts one. "Learning about your family is more fun."

"Fun?" Having lived the drama, I wouldn't call it fun.

"Educational? Gives me an insight into who Mike is."

"And who is he?"

"Not a daddy's boy."

No need to be a genius to get that one. "Anything else?"

"Protective of his family."

"Who isn't? What else?"

She purses her lips and taps them in fake consideration. "Knows what he wants."

"I'm down with the first two, but the last one? How did you arrive at that?"

"It's how you walk. How you carry yourself. How you talk about things. There's no doubt or hesitation in your voice. You say things like they're the truth, and that's not how many people talk. There is power behind that. Strength of conviction."

She should've heard my conversation with Ben. Either Ben's words are making their way to my mind, and I'm starting to believe I can do it all, or I'm faking it well. "Your last statement isn't true. I try to project that but it's more of a facade than reality."

"I don't believe that. Name one thing you're not confident about."

"This." I run my hand up and down my worn-in leather jacket. The boots I bought when I got the bike and could afford only the used ones.

"Your looks?" Angie rolls her eyes. "You cannot, let me repeat, can absolutely not know that you're hot as hell. And not temperature-wise. You could be an underwear model. That's as high of a compliment as I can give a male body."

That is the best compliment I've received in a long time. "I'm not that hot."

She lowers her chin and gives me a stare.

"Whatever." I can feel my neck heating up. "I was talking about my clothes. At work I wear my shirts and slacks, and everyone does too, and it's the unspoken uniform: some have better brands, but I don't stick out. At the dojang we're in our actual uniforms. The belt color is the major difference, and you earn that. I'm proud of my black one. But when I walked into the lobby of your fancy hotel, it was like everyone was staring at me-"

"Because they were. Because"—she puts her hand onto my forehead—"hot. In every way. They were jealous. Own it."

"I wish you were right, but it's the status. It's the money. I've been after it for a while. Getting my degrees, becoming an engineer was the best stable high paying career I could come up with. I'm good with math and sciences. It was a logical choice. Will take me a while before I can afford the lodgings you're staying at, but it's a possibility. If I study hard, work hard, I can make my way up. It's a solid path."

"I hear a but coming."

"There is a but. Now I have the dojang, and I'm so much more excited about it than my well-paying job. The changes we're making to the space, what we'll be able to offer-that's what I keep thinking about. I must study for my next exam, I have to stay late at the office to show I'm the right person for a promotion, but my heart is not in it, and even my head is not in it anymore. I'm staring at my computer screen in the office, and in my mind I'm deciding which trainers I can hire, what mats we can afford vs which ones I want to put in, which web-designer to hire. It's all about the academy. My brain is full of ideas, and I have no time to think them through, write them down, communicate them to Ben. I have to get up, go to work, and calculate concrete structures and steel beams."

Angie stops, and I look at her. Her eyes are shining with something, and I hope it's not pity. She steps up to me and wraps herself around my body, her arms clasp behind my back. Tight.

I've been looking forward to full body contact with her. Chest-to-chest, toes-to-toes, her head under my chin. There's nothing sexual in this embrace. She hugs me with forceful tenderness, and I exhale. I let the soft blanket of her care wrap around me. Tighter.

We are conspicuous on the wide-open street of LA's Chinatown, but it's the last thing I care about. I was sure the thing I missed the most about Angie was the time we spent naked or almost naked with each other. I was wrong. It's the connection we have. The ability to just talk, like we've known each other for years, and not hours. The power of it inebriates me, fills me with the confidence she thought I already possessed. Tightest.

The hug makes it hard to breathe, and I don't want to. The pause, the stillness of this moment is what I'll remember. Who needs breathing?

Angie loosens her grip but doesn't let go. Air rushes back into my lungs. "What was that for?"

She looks up at me, her eyes inches away from my chin. "You needed it. I have plenty to share."

"Thank you." I kiss her nose, and she rubs at the spot my lips have touched onto the fabric of my T-shirt.

"Anytime." Her eyes return to mine. "I mean it. Even if we are arguing-tell me. We can pause the fight and hug."

"Code word?"

Her eyes move side to side. A coy smile creeps on her lips.

"Bruce Lee."

The air that entered my lungs when she stopped hugging me erupts from my chest when I laugh. My body shakes, I step away from Angie, and double down, knees bent, hands on them. "Bruce Lee." I grab her hand, stand up straight, and drag her behind me. "Bruce Lee." I can't stop laughing and I don't want to. The hug was something I wished lasted forever. This bout of laughter is another thing that I wish the same for. Angie does not know the effect she has on me.

We turn and turn again. "Second stop." I point at the statue in front of us. "Bruce Lee." I croak before the next wave of laughter overtakes me. No idea why that is funny, but if I could lie down on the pavement painted red under the equally red lanterns hanging above, and roll around laughing, I would've done it.

"Do I rub him for luck?" Angie's serious.

"Fuck no"-I breathe out-"but he can be our witness." I think the laughing fit is over.

Angie walks over to the temporary metal railing around the statue and puts her fingers on Bruce's hand that is holding the nun chucks. "I swear to stop any fight, any celebration, any important meeting, and give Mike a hug if he says your name."

She steps away. "Your turn."

I'm tall enough to each Bruce's outstretched palm. "I swear to stop anything I'm doing and hug Angie if she says your name."

"Bruce Lee," says Angie.

My arms wrap around her shoulders, and I pull her to me. Not tight. I lift the corner of the imaginary blanket she shared with me earlier and tuck her under its cover. We look at Bruce Lee, and I thank the genius of a man for coming through for me yet again. All the nights I spent alone in my room with only him for company paid off. They brought me here.