“Wherefore art thou, Jiu-Jitsu?”

I’m pretty sure that’s what Juliet would’ve said if she’d more wisely fallen in love with martial arts than that Montague guy. I’ll bet things would’ve turned out better for her. Oooh! Oooh! New book series idea: Shakespeare but with martial arts! Who wouldn’t want to read that? We’ll still keep any and all swordplay, however, because swords are awesome.

Anyway… I’ve only sat in on Jiu-Jitsu twice since The Incident two and half months ago. That’s because I’ve been relying on Sensei to go with me for safety reasons (after dark, on crutches). His availability has been sparse. But this past Monday, I told myself I was going with or without him.

For reasons I can’t quite parse out, I was nervous about going back. It’s been so long. Why should I bother? What’s the use? Are the guys going to get tired of asking how I’m you doing followed by some sentiment like “Hope you get better soon”? It’s dark and cold out. Wouldn’t I rather be at home where it’s warm and light?

All those thoughts were running through my mind as I waited for my girls to finish Taekwondo. As in the good old days, Hubby picked them up after class, so I could scoot directly to Jiu-Jitsu. Still, I could just follow them home if I wanted to wuss out.

I added an insert to make my shoe more squishy and supportive. That makes crutch usage a little better.

Then Sensei came out of the gym. “Last chance to come with me to Jiu-Jitsu,” I said.

“Rain check. But I can follow you over there if you like.”

“Okay.” The gyms are close to one another, so I wasn’t putting Sensei out much.

As I pulled into the parking lot, the sight of the bright lights, broad windows, and gi-clad students inside the dojo made me smile. That old warm feeling of “Ahhh, Jiu-Jitsu” returned.

Sensei parked near me and escorted me to the door.

“Were you afraid no one would see you and open the door for you?”

“I don’t know, maybe,” I shrugged. “This is just easier.”

When he pulled the door open for me, I immediately heard “Hey, Betsy!” from Instructor.

“Hi!” I said and shot a quick smile back to Sensei by way of thanks. Apparently it wasn’t enough, or he was making sure I was all right. He walked along the sidewalk outside, in the opposite direction of his car, while I headed to the benches inside. I met his eye through the window and gave him a big toothy grin, hoping that would suffice for a farewell, since I couldn’t exactly wave. (I didn’t bring the wheelchair because crutches are easier to get around on.)

A couple of the guys smiled and waved to me from where they were lined up on the wall.

The Wall (not to be confused with the Pink Floyd album.)

I took notes during class. At least one technique had changed slightly from the way I first learned it. As best I could, I practiced the rear naked choke from my seat, pulling my chin up with one forearm and snaking the other arm beneath it. A blue belt walked by and gave me a thumbs up.

The best part of the night was when Li’l Trejo, who was practicing near me, jogged off the mat briefly with a smile, a fist bump, and, “What’s up, Bethany?”

I hope the millisecond falter in my smile from him calling me the wrong name went unnoticed.

Have I been gone THAT long?

One guy I’d never seen took a break on the bench near me. I decided to be friendly, introduce myself, and congratulate him for having one stripe already.

“You’re the one who got hurt testing, right?” he asked.

“Whoa. Is this like a legend now?”

“Aaron [not his real name] told me there was a woman who got hurt while testing.”

“Yep, that would be me.” (I mean, who else?)

This makes me wonder if I’m bad publicity for Instructor. Maybe I’ll ask him next time, because I’m determined there will be a next time, and hopefully not so much longer since this time.

In other news, every once in a while, I dust off and send out the query letter for a novel I wrote years ago. I recently got a request for the full manuscript. Though I know better than to get excited, I still wanted to share the news.

One person I told was Sensei. I fully expected a sarcastic reply. He said, “Congratulations! I assume this is a book about me?”

Can you guess my response to that? Gold star to anyone who guesses correctly. I’ll give you a clue: It’s one sentence. Give it your best shot. 🙂