To Pass Guard

[Outfoxd]

((Paulo Abbate: Memory Thread Start))

Jennifer Abbate hated her son.

Well, maybe not so much hated. Resented. Resented was a better word. Resented the fact he wasn't like his sister. Resented that she was driving him to an amateur cage-fighting event.

Resented the fact that when she say she'd rather not drive him because she was tired and work was a bitch and everything, he gave her a glare that was Marcello's glare.

Resented that despite her best efforts to keep him away from the same bullshit as his father, Paulo kept doing his best to try to get in.

As she turned her egg-beater of a Ford out of the intersection, she stole a glance at Paulo, at her son. He was texting someone, probably one of his friends. Probably talking about how awesome it was that he was going to watch some inexperienced kids beat each other senseless. Probably talking about how maybe he'd try to get in there some day.

It always happened on days like this, she wondered if she was being completely irrational, running from Marcello, taking his children from him. Or at the least, that she was keeping Paulo away from something he obviously wanted to do. She had been on her way to purple belt herself before leaving California. She could even teach him, in a controlled environ...

Paulo put the phone to his ear, started talking.

"Yeah, man. Going to the fights. I'm gonna see you there." Jennifer strained herself to hear. He was talking quietly.
"Telling you, one day I'll l be in there. Gonna train every day, show those fuckers what jiu-jitsu is really all about."

Jennifer's jaw tightened. No. Fuck that. Paulo was not Marcello. Paulo was her son. Her son.

"Turn the phone off." She said. When he didn't respond, she said it louder. With force.

Paulo looked at her, indignant. But he turned the phone off. "What's your problem?"

She flinched; Paulo's tone of voice almost perfectly mirrored Marcello's whenever she got a technique wrong during grappling drills.

"We're here." She pulled into the parking lot of the banquet hall the fights were going to be held.

Paulo's defiance melted away. They parked, and he climbed out.

Sighing, Jennifer got out to follow her son.

She wondered what line separated resentment from hatred as she followed on his heels.