Hi, I'm Miguel.

And when were ready, come back to earth I guess.

Why are you doing this? I told you, you may have a concussion. 

Hey. Just thought I'd text you since I'm in the states again. I brought you back a little something.

I'll be home in the next few days, if you wanna see me. I miss you.

Hey. Just thought I'd text you since I'm in the states again. I brought you back a little something.

I'll be home in the next few days, if you wanna see me. I miss you.

Hey. Just thought I'd text you since I'm in the states again. I brought you back a little something.

I'll be home in the next few days, if you wanna see me. I miss you.

“Robby, sit down.”

(Robby): What’s up?

(Sighs.  He isn’t going to like this.) “Carmen and Diaz are coming over to talk.  You two can’t keep up this fighting stuff.”

(Robby):  “I’ve got nothing to say to him.  And I haven’t been fighting with him.  I haven’t talked to him in days.  Not since his little work girlfriend tried to start some shit with me.  I’m done.  I don’t care if I never see him again.”

“Well, then sit there and listen to what he has to say because you two are killing your Dad with this shit.  It ends today.  Understand me?”

(Robby): “Yeah.  Whatever.  He can talk.”

(Rolls eyes and goes to answer the door.)

“Because I want my son back to the way he normally is, not this brooding mess you’ve been for the past week.”

Miguel (offended): “Wow, thank you.”

I try to affectionately fluff his hair, but he doges my hand. “Miguel, please, don’t be angry. This is going to be put behind you, one way or another. Listen,” –Miguel looks at me– “You don’t have to be friends but you also can’t go on like this. It’s not worth the energy-”

Miguel: “Why don’t you tell him that? He’s the one that that–”

“How about you tell him, right now.”

(Rings the bell) 

“Miggy, you don’t have to be friends with this boy again if you don’t want to, but you have to be civil. You’re not doing yourself any good by letting it fester like this, and going over to your friend’s house to drink  is not a solution I want you to be taking up. I really hope your hangover isn’t too bad, because I have a feeling there’s going to be yelling.”

The door opens, and we’re led inside (with Miguel’s extreme reluctance) where I see Robby in the other room, looking equally as wretched and unimpressed as Miguel. I nod hello, but I think he’s trying to avoid looking at either of us. Or anyone. 

“Robby?”

Carmen: “Miguel!”

(shoves off Carmen and walks towards Robby) “I do not! Not my fault that you’ve got so many parental issues that you can’t even have normal relationships with people.”

You admit when you’re wrong when it gets you something.  I didn’t take advantage of you.  You were pouring me just as many drinks as I was pouring you, but you did use me.  You knew I had feelings for you and you used that to your advantage.  People like you are why I’m so detached because I know not to get too close to snakes. I’m not detached from those I trust.  That’s why you’re pissing your pants that I can still talk to Sam.

"And excuse me, taking advantage?? Oh my god, when did I say that?! Oh wait I know, never! Stop taking what Tory told you and twisting everything I say because you feel guilty about it. I didn't say you took advantage of me! I never have! I'm not gonna be responsible for things other people have said."

"Oh, and a snake? Really, Robby? Ever since you started hanging onto Sam's dad you've been all holier than thou about everything, man. I mean seriously, you can't act like you're the victim in every situation or that everything we did, was for me, take some goddamn responsibility instead of blaming me!"

“Robby, sit down.”

(Robby): What’s up?

(Sighs.  He isn’t going to like this.) “Carmen and Diaz are coming over to talk.  You two can’t keep up this fighting stuff.”

(Robby):  “I’ve got nothing to say to him.  And I haven’t been fighting with him.  I haven’t talked to him in days.  Not since his little work girlfriend tried to start some shit with me.  I’m done.  I don’t care if I never see him again.”

“Well, then sit there and listen to what he has to say because you two are killing your Dad with this shit.  It ends today.  Understand me?”

(Robby): “Yeah.  Whatever.  He can talk.”

(Rolls eyes and goes to answer the door.)

“Because I want my son back to the way he normally is, not this brooding mess you’ve been for the past week.”

Miguel (offended): “Wow, thank you.”

I try to affectionately fluff his hair, but he doges my hand. “Miguel, please, don’t be angry. This is going to be put behind you, one way or another. Listen,” –Miguel looks at me– “You don’t have to be friends but you also can’t go on like this. It’s not worth the energy-”

Miguel: “Why don’t you tell him that? He’s the one that that–”

“How about you tell him, right now.”

(Rings the bell) 

“Miggy, you don’t have to be friends with this boy again if you don’t want to, but you have to be civil. You’re not doing yourself any good by letting it fester like this, and going over to your friend’s house to drink  is not a solution I want you to be taking up. I really hope your hangover isn’t too bad, because I have a feeling there’s going to be yelling.”

The door opens, and we’re led inside (with Miguel’s extreme reluctance) where I see Robby in the other room, looking equally as wretched and unimpressed as Miguel. I nod hello, but I think he’s trying to avoid looking at either of us. Or anyone. 

“Robby?”

Carmen: “Miguel!”

(shoves off Carmen and walks towards Robby) "I do not! Not my fault that you've got so many parental issues that you can't even have normal relationships with people."

“Robby, sit down.”

(Robby): What’s up?

(Sighs.  He isn’t going to like this.) “Carmen and Diaz are coming over to talk.  You two can’t keep up this fighting stuff.”

(Robby):  “I’ve got nothing to say to him.  And I haven’t been fighting with him.  I haven’t talked to him in days.  Not since his little work girlfriend tried to start some shit with me.  I’m done.  I don’t care if I never see him again.”

“Well, then sit there and listen to what he has to say because you two are killing your Dad with this shit.  It ends today.  Understand me?”

(Robby): “Yeah.  Whatever.  He can talk.”

(Rolls eyes and goes to answer the door.)

“Because I want my son back to the way he normally is, not this brooding mess you’ve been for the past week.”

Miguel (offended): “Wow, thank you.”

I try to affectionately fluff his hair, but he doges my hand. “Miguel, please, don’t be angry. This is going to be put behind you, one way or another. Listen,” –Miguel looks at me– “You don’t have to be friends but you also can’t go on like this. It’s not worth the energy-”

Miguel: “Why don’t you tell him that? He’s the one that that–”

“How about you tell him, right now.”

(Rings the bell) 

“Miggy, you don’t have to be friends with this boy again if you don’t want to, but you have to be civil. You’re not doing yourself any good by letting it fester like this, and going over to your friend’s house to drink  is not a solution I want you to be taking up. I really hope your hangover isn’t too bad, because I have a feeling there’s going to be yelling.”

The door opens, and we’re led inside (with Miguel’s extreme reluctance) where I see Robby in the other room, looking equally as wretched and unimpressed as Miguel. I nod hello, but I think he’s trying to avoid looking at either of us. Or anyone. 

“Robby?”

Carmen: "Miguel!"

“Robby, sit down.”

(Robby): What’s up?

(Sighs.  He isn’t going to like this.) “Carmen and Diaz are coming over to talk.  You two can’t keep up this fighting stuff.”

(Robby):  “I’ve got nothing to say to him.  And I haven’t been fighting with him.  I haven’t talked to him in days.  Not since his little work girlfriend tried to start some shit with me.  I’m done.  I don’t care if I never see him again.”

“Well, then sit there and listen to what he has to say because you two are killing your Dad with this shit.  It ends today.  Understand me?”

(Robby): “Yeah.  Whatever.  He can talk.”

(Rolls eyes and goes to answer the door.)

“Because I want my son back to the way he normally is, not this brooding mess you’ve been for the past week.”

Miguel (offended): “Wow, thank you.”

I try to affectionately fluff his hair, but he doges my hand. “Miguel, please, don’t be angry. This is going to be put behind you, one way or another. Listen,” –Miguel looks at me– “You don’t have to be friends but you also can’t go on like this. It’s not worth the energy-”

Miguel: “Why don’t you tell him that? He’s the one that that–”

“How about you tell him, right now.”

(Rings the bell) 

“Miggy, you don’t have to be friends with this boy again if you don’t want to, but you have to be civil. You’re not doing yourself any good by letting it fester like this, and going over to your friend’s house to drink  is not a solution I want you to be taking up. I really hope your hangover isn’t too bad, because I have a feeling there’s going to be yelling.”

The door opens, and we’re led inside (with Miguel’s extreme reluctance) where I see Robby in the other room, looking equally as wretched and unimpressed as Miguel. I nod hello, but I think he’s trying to avoid looking at either of us. Or anyone. 

“Robby?”

Things are quiet for a few moments…no crisis, no drama…our breathing and hearts beating, the only sound in the apartment…and it’s nice. *takes a deep breath* “Okay, well two of the three biggest things in Miyagi Do are breathing and balance. As much as I miss and at times am still mad at Dad…I can’t do anything to change the fact that he’s not around. So I have to find a way to balance his absence with Mr. Lawrence being back, right?”

“I mean you, Aisha, Mom and Robby…he’s connected to all of you, I can’t keep dodging him *remembers hiding in the kitchen at Robby’s, when his grandfather died* or walking a tight rope whenever he’s concerned, afraid that I’ll blow it and say the wrong thing.” *sighs* “If you like him so much, he can’t be all bad. I have to find something about the guy, something real that isn’t skewed by others’ views or experiences, that I can be okay with or…I’m gonna lose it.”

*picks up the comics* “Maybe something in these…or if I can ever remember what else I saw in his room…”

But right now… we’re sitting here, her and I and nobody else to interrupt us. It’s so quiet and calm, and I think that this might be the whole idea behind meditation. It’s so tranquil, so nice and calming, just being here and doing nothing in particular for a few moments. I almost forget why it’s so quiet, but there’s still that look to her eyes, and that edge to her voice as she tries to explain her thoughts. 

There was another big box over-half-full of more of these comics, a couple more boxes of stuff, but I don’t know what was in them, because they didn’t fall over, so of course I didn’t have to pick them up. *rubs temples and squints* Those packaging tubes, though. They had some kind of code written on the side of them. B-L? I-H? W-W? and F-1-6? I didn’t get a good enough look at the others.”

*eyes open* “Oh! There was an old book report, too. (Why didn’t I bring it? If I had known…no, worry about it later and just breathe.) He actually had nice hand writing. I couldn’t really read it too well, because, you know…*points to my head and half smirks*…hangover, but I think it was nice.”

Or maybe he changed. People change all the time. Maybe he was really different when he was our age. Not gonna lie, I like the idea of sensei as a somewhat dorky teenager, one that liked comics and fantasy books. For a while I thought we had absolutely zero in common, but every once in a while something comes along and surprises me, like this.

What was he like as a teenager? Surely he had other interests besides hot babes, karate, and 80’s music and bad action flicks?

But what were they?

“Damn, kinda wish I got the opportunity to look through his room… as weird as that sounds.” I try to laugh off my own awkwardness, but she just smiles like what I’ve said was somehow endearing. I take her hand.

“I like us, too.”

I love us.

And her. Don’t I?

I never did show her the video I made. After we broke up.

Don’t get caught up in your thoughts again. Look at her, not your hands.

I see her look of confusion, so I’m quick to clarify the reason. 

“Then they dated two years, until they had a fight and broke up. Then apparently your dad showed up and uh, stole her. I guess. I’m not fully sure to be honest,  it just sounded like he had good timing. That’s the first time he met your dad. They fought, Johnny won, but your dad got Ali. 

I kinda want to say ‘that seems excessive’ because, I mean who hates a whole dojo because of a few students? Who goes to all that trouble to get students to leave, to trash it, to try to completely run into the ground, all because of a few people 34 years ago?? I mean, c'mon. Besides, the way sensei told me that it happened, Sam’ dad has no reason to be mad. If anything, Johnny would have more ground here.

But, is he telling the truth? Or…

“Then Robby casually mentioned that he was ‘teaching’ him and beating the crap out of him. I wanted to find out more, but Mr. Weinberg had just died, that whole house was crazy with family fights and Jason and I were just hanging out with him. That whole time was crazy actually. Hearing the news at school about Mr. Weinberg’s passing, worrying about not being able contact Robby, Mom telling us about Grandma passing and then things getting weird when Dad still wasn’t coming back home. So…probably not the time to get into it, about some crazed psycho that likes beating up teenagers.”

What? Where the hell was I? Oh right, getting drunk with Hawk and blowing up a mailbox. And before that, in Arizona for some family crap. I feel weird now. What else did I miss?

I tune back in once Sam starts asking me questions.

Am I hungry?

“Uh, sure. But uh, we can make something together, don’t worry. Um, I’m up for anything really, so what do you feel like? We can make simple stuff do I font burn the house down, we also have leftovers from dinner last night, which is probably better than anything I could help with at this point.”

I start thinking, about all the things that he said to us. Tried to drill into our heads. And it sorta worked.

“He used to always tell us ‘you show your enemy no mercy’, and it was brutal. Even when we were just sparring, if someone made the make the winning hit, he’d still tell them to do it again, just to finish it off. No mercy, no weakness…”

And no honour.

I still remember how badly he screwed with our heads… With my head. I felt like such an idiot. I feel like I’m squeezing her hand roo hard, and a snap out of whatever headspace that was. I hate thinking about it.

We’re sitting down to eat and I’m taking in what he’s saying. “Geez! No wonder Mr. Lawrence is so…well, I mean, you studied under him for a school year, how long did he have​ that monster teaching him?”

“Um, I think as long as he did karate, since he was around thirteen, I think.. he never mentioned anyone else, but I know he stopped training with him, for whatever reason, before he turned 18. This would also explain his methods when I first got started, he gradually eased up once more people joined though, and he probably realized that constant insults don’t make for good pre-workout.”

“Okay, I’m gonna tell you something but you can’t repeat it, okay?” She nods, interest piqued. “So, about Dr. Ali... he really, really liked her, but I know for sure that she wouldn’t have dated him, and been as in love with him as he said, if he’d been the same person he was when your dad met him. I just know it. It sounds like he did the same thing with us, turned us into people we weren’t. I mean... look at me. This could have easily gone a whole other way if I fell into what Kreese was pushing. Eli did, and look what happened.”

“Last year, after some students had quit and I kinda let him know I felt about the insults, and the pushiness, he gave us all a speech on how Cobra Kai helped him to change, helped him to be tough, but maybe he took it too far. He was Cobra Kai’s start pupil, so he was probably pushed to be ruthless.”

I feel like there’s way too many similarities here. History repeats itself? Apparently it all but fully recycles itself, but if a different package every time.

“Kreese is just, a terrible, terrible person who should not be allowed to teach kids, or teenagers... or anyone. He needs a reality check.” (with humor) “I always hated how he’d compare life to war, like dude, lighten up. We’re kids, training for karate, this isn’t actual military work.” 

We share a few giggles, and she changes the topic to something (someone) I hadn’t thought about today. 

“So how did Robby get involved in all of that?”

Robby. Um...

(flatly) “Protecting me. When all that stuff was going down and sensei ditched out on the dojo and I was running around trying to fix it all while Kreese was hellbent on stalking me and Aisha until we said yes, he came to the dojo one day, to help me find the papers...” 

There’s a pang in my chest. And then we... became friends?