Don’t wait for perfection

As it turned out, Monte had a beautiful left hook.

Cindy and I were walking into my place loaded down with all the fixings she’d need to make her patented paella crab fritters (yeah, with the fried lemon and peas) when I heard the scuffle down the block, in front of Monte’s house. Some kid was smarting off to him and Monte wasn’t having any of it. I could guess his grandmother, Mother Washington, was not around or she’d have shooed he boys away.

“Should we call to him?” Cindy asked.

“Don’t sweat it,” I said. “Teenagers are going to argue, that’s their nature, but it’s too cold out here to fight.”

Just as I said that, the other guy said something that made him laugh out loud and got Monte fuming. He waved an open hand at Monte’s face, teasing him. And that’s when I got to see Monte’s left hook. His gloved fist dug into the other kid’s belly, doubling him over. He was winding up for the follow-up right when I shouted his name, dropped the grocery bags and dashed up the street as fast as I could in the leather coat Cindy gave me for Christmas. A few seconds later I had Monte by the back of his collar and the other kid was sitting on Monte’s stoop, holding his stomach and panting.

If there’s one thing I hate to see when I’m outdoors it’s my breath, so I was already pissed off about still being out there, dragging cold air into my lungs from running most of a block.

I asked, “What’s the matter with you?” just like my dad used to ask me when I was a bit younger. “Whatever the beef is, you don’t need to solve it with your fists.

Usually, Monte will back off when he knows he’s wrong, but this time he stood up to me, poked his chin forward and stared me right in the eye.

“Yeah, like you never shut some sucker up with your fists. Ain’t that how you solve yours and everybody else’s problems?”

I fell silent then, and just watched the other kid run away as best he could. What could I say to Monte? I mean, I always try to make a punch in the nose the last resort, but sometimes I know I get too tempted to take that shortcut to resolution and I’m a pretty fair scrapper. I was feeling a little like a hypocrite right then. Who WAS I to teach him nonviolence?

While I was thinking, Cindy caught up to us. She looked at Monte, then at me, and shoved my shoulder with one hand while she shoved his with the other.

“What the hell’s the matter with you two?” From the first word I knew she wasn’t going to be speaking from her attorney mouth, but out of her snappy Rican girl mouth. The first blast was for Monte.

“Monte you know damned well you were wrong taking a poke at that boy! What, did he say something that hurt your feelings? That’s no excuse for hitting somebody and you know it!”

When he turned away, embarrassed, she switched her focus to me. “And you, mister big hero. What the hell you backing off for?”

“Hey, the kid had a point,” I said.

“Nonsense!” Cindy crossed her arms and made me feel for a minute like I was the little kid. But her eyes went back to Monte.

“You know, there’s nobody more qualified to teach you about being a man, Monte. He's not perfect, but that don’t mean he can’t teach you valuable stuff. When I was your age I was taking gymnastics lessons. My coach couldn’t do a back flip, but she taught me how to.”

She turned back to me. “And you. You don’t have to be a saint to teach young blood here how to behave right. You’re supposed to be mentoring this young man. The fact that you’re trying so hard to live up to your own super high standards just means you understands how hard it is.”

I took a deep breath. “Yeah, I guess I know you’re right. It’s just, well, I ought to do better. I want to be a good example.”

“Sure, and I want to be a size four, especially when I'm not hungry. I been dieting all my life, but I keep coming back to about here. Not because I don't know what I ought to do, but because I love black bean soup and crab fritters and a good pressed Cuban sandwich. Unfortunately for my waistline, resisting temptation most of the time just isn’t good enough. Same with you and fighting. And you can’t give up trying to get it right every time. But you also can’t wait until you’re perfect to teach Monte what you know is right.”

Then she squeezed my shoulder and smiled. “Now that I’ve vented, I’m going back inside. It’s cold out here.”

While I watched her coat sway on her way back to the apartment, I heard Monte say, “Hey, H, I’m sorry I smarted off at you before. I should have stayed cool.”

“No biggie, Monte. Long as you understand that you need to stay cool with your friends, and keep arguments on a verbal level.” Then I gave him a wink. “Why don’t you come on back to the office? I’ve got a heavy bag hanging in there and I can teach you how to throw that punch right. You could be a contender.”