"You don't avoid violence because you're peaceful."
Thomas's face hardened.
"You avoid everything that reminds you you're still alive."
Nathan looked away.
Calvin didn't.
"You don't talk about the team. You don't talk about your wife. You don't talk about me. You stand against walls in a children's karate gym counting exits."
Thomas stared.
Calvin pointed toward him.
"That's not peace, Tom."
Silence.
"That's a longer deployment."
Thomas left.
For the next week, he didn't return to Harbor Point.
Eli asked twice.
Thomas said he was busy.
Rachel didn't challenge him.
She knew better.
On Thursday night, Thomas sat at home alone.
At 6:18, he looked at the clock.
At Harbor Point, Eli would be warming up.
At 6:25, Daniel usually started footwork drills.
At 6:40, Ryan taught basic defense.
Thomas hated that he knew the schedule.
At 7:03, his phone rang.
Eli.
Thomas answered.
"Hey."
"Grandpa?"
Something was wrong.
Thomas stood.
"What happened?"
"They're closing the gym."
Thomas was already reaching for his jacket.
"Who said that?"
"Coach Daniel."
Thomas drove there in fifteen minutes.
The meeting had already started.
Parents filled the room.
Daniel stood near the center mat holding paperwork.
Ryan was beside him.
For the first time since Thomas had known him, the young instructor looked subdued.
Daniel explained.
The property's lease would not be renewed.
The new owner intended to redevelop the block.
They had ninety days.
Parents shouted questions.
Could they move?
Could the city intervene?
What about donations?
Daniel answered as best he could.
Thomas stood near his old wall.
He looked through the windows toward the library next door.
Calvin's words returned.
Records annex.
North Lantern.
He hated it.
He hated that part of him had already started calculating.
After the meeting, Ryan approached.
Thomas expected awkwardness.
Instead Ryan said, "Can I talk to you?"
Thomas nodded.
Ryan looked thinner.
Less polished.
"I owe you something."
"You apologized."
"Not enough."
Thomas waited.
Ryan rubbed his palms together.
"My dad owned a boxing gym when I was a kid."
Thomas hadn't known that.
"He was good."
Ryan stared at the floor.
"Not fighter good. Coach good."
"What happened?"
"He lost the gym."
Ryan nodded toward Harbor Point.
"Rent went up. Membership dropped. He borrowed money. Everything fell apart."
Thomas listened.
Ryan continued.
"He drank after that."
"I'm sorry."
"He blamed everybody."
Ryan laughed faintly.
"I promised I'd never be like him."
Thomas said nothing.
Ryan looked around.
"Then I started acting exactly like him before he lost everything."
Thomas understood.
Fear wore strange masks.
Sometimes arrogance was one.
Ryan said, "When I saw you standing there every week, judging me—"
"I wasn't judging you."
"I know that now."
Thomas nodded.
Ryan swallowed.
"I thought if I could make you look small, I'd feel bigger."
Thomas looked at him.