heard of him. PMA is what he says he uses in fights and in life, to make things happen the way he wants them to happen. The ‘P’ stands for ‘Power.’ You have a powerful idea you want to accomplish, right? That’s where it starts. Then you move into the ‘M,’ that stands for ‘Mind.’ You have to mentally have the will to put that power into action, everybody has ideas, not everybody has the will to go to the next step, and the next step is the ‘A,’ which stands for ‘Action.’ When you have the will in place, you translate that will into action and make things happen.”
Oh sweet, sweet Jesus.
“You spend a lot of time by yourself, don’t you?”
“I really want to join the CIA,” he said too quickly. “If I put PMA to work in my life, I’m pretty sure I can become a great agent.”
“Aren’t you still in school?”
“Just got out of high school. Well, I graduate in June, but I got all my credits done last semester. I’m supposed to start college in the fall, but…”
He stopped. Then he began to study me with a little too much intensity.
“Is there egg on my face?” I asked.
“No, I just…you look kinda pale. I was wondering if you were okay.”
“I’ve never had so many people concerned about my health.”
“Sorry.” He looked down, a little embarrassed, and not just about asking about my skin tone. I think he surmised that I was skeptical of the whole PMA thing.
“So you know your grandfather hired me.”
He looked back up. “Um…yeah.”
“You know why he hired me?”
“Um…yeah. My uncle, right?”
I sipped my Coke Zero. I was about to try and cross the Rubicon if this kid would hand me a paddle to help me do it.
“What do you think about it?”
“My uncle? Well…I don’t know. He was always a little out there. I mean, I only saw him a couple of times when I was a kid. I was pretty young when he died, nine or ten maybe.”
“What was he like?”
“He was really…I don’t know…intense? Kinda…angry?”
“About what?”
“I don’t know. He and Grandpa used to yell at each other about war stuff. Something about what my uncle was doing over in Afghanistan. I don’t remember much. I do remember this one time, because it was really weird, when he came over with this guy…and Grandpa called the guy his ‘girlfriend.”
“What was this guy’s name?”
“His first name was Herman. I remember that because I never met anybody named Herman before.”
“I still haven’t. What about Herman’s last name?”
He shook his head and shrugged. “My grandpa acted like he knew him, but I don’t know how.”
“So you think your uncle was gay?”
Jeremy shrugged again, but no head shake this time. “I don’t know. I didn’t really understand what gay was back then.”
Interesting. The first personal information I had about Robert Davidson was the fact that he had a girlfriend named Herman.
Meanwhile, Jeremy was starting to seem like a smart and earnest boy. I didn’t really appreciate earnest as much as some others, but in this case, it seemed to fit. The PMA stuff was a phase, a way for him to try to become a man, which made me think the father wasn’t much in the picture. I had to wonder - why was he telling me all this, when the rest of his family wouldn’t?
“Are you with the CIA?” he asked.
“I used to be. Now they just hire me for jobs like this.”
His eyes lit up. “You carry a gun?”
“It’s been a couple of decades since I even fired one. Kid, the truth is I was a desk jockey the whole time at the Agency. They liked me for my brain, which was all I had to offer. I don’t do Kung Fu and if I jumped through a window firing guns in both hands like they do in the movies, I’d probably end up falling on my face and accidentally shooting myself in the balls. So don’t get it in your head that I’m any kind of superspy.”
“I practice Kung Fu. Not Kung Fu strictly speaking, but MAU. Martial Arts
Oh sweet, sweet Jesus.
“You spend a lot of time by yourself, don’t you?”
“I really want to join the CIA,” he said too quickly. “If I put PMA to work in my life, I’m pretty sure I can become a great agent.”
“Aren’t you still in school?”
“Just got out of high school. Well, I graduate in June, but I got all my credits done last semester. I’m supposed to start college in the fall, but…”
He stopped. Then he began to study me with a little too much intensity.
“Is there egg on my face?” I asked.
“No, I just…you look kinda pale. I was wondering if you were okay.”
“I’ve never had so many people concerned about my health.”
“Sorry.” He looked down, a little embarrassed, and not just about asking about my skin tone. I think he surmised that I was skeptical of the whole PMA thing.
“So you know your grandfather hired me.”
He looked back up. “Um…yeah.”
“You know why he hired me?”
“Um…yeah. My uncle, right?”
I sipped my Coke Zero. I was about to try and cross the Rubicon if this kid would hand me a paddle to help me do it.
“What do you think about it?”
“My uncle? Well…I don’t know. He was always a little out there. I mean, I only saw him a couple of times when I was a kid. I was pretty young when he died, nine or ten maybe.”
“What was he like?”
“He was really…I don’t know…intense? Kinda…angry?”
“About what?”
“I don’t know. He and Grandpa used to yell at each other about war stuff. Something about what my uncle was doing over in Afghanistan. I don’t remember much. I do remember this one time, because it was really weird, when he came over with this guy…and Grandpa called the guy his ‘girlfriend.”
“What was this guy’s name?”
“His first name was Herman. I remember that because I never met anybody named Herman before.”
“I still haven’t. What about Herman’s last name?”
He shook his head and shrugged. “My grandpa acted like he knew him, but I don’t know how.”
“So you think your uncle was gay?”
Jeremy shrugged again, but no head shake this time. “I don’t know. I didn’t really understand what gay was back then.”
Interesting. The first personal information I had about Robert Davidson was the fact that he had a girlfriend named Herman.
Meanwhile, Jeremy was starting to seem like a smart and earnest boy. I didn’t really appreciate earnest as much as some others, but in this case, it seemed to fit. The PMA stuff was a phase, a way for him to try to become a man, which made me think the father wasn’t much in the picture. I had to wonder - why was he telling me all this, when the rest of his family wouldn’t?
“Are you with the CIA?” he asked.
“I used to be. Now they just hire me for jobs like this.”
His eyes lit up. “You carry a gun?”
“It’s been a couple of decades since I even fired one. Kid, the truth is I was a desk jockey the whole time at the Agency. They liked me for my brain, which was all I had to offer. I don’t do Kung Fu and if I jumped through a window firing guns in both hands like they do in the movies, I’d probably end up falling on my face and accidentally shooting myself in the balls. So don’t get it in your head that I’m any kind of superspy.”
“I practice Kung Fu. Not Kung Fu strictly speaking, but MAU. Martial Arts
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