The beginner's class was smaller than the advanced one Thelma had observed earlier. Most of the students were teenagers or young adults, with a few in their thirties. Thelma was by far the oldest person in the room. Rick positioned her in the back row.
"Basic stances today," he announced to the class. "We'll start with front stance."
Thelma watched carefully as Rick demonstrated, then attempted to mimic his position. Her knees protested as she tried to bend into the stance, and her balance wavered. She had to use her cane to stabilize herself several times.
"No canes on the training floor," Rick called out. "If you need it, maybe this isn't the right activity for you."
Thelma nodded, setting her cane against the wall. She wobbled back to her position, moving more slowly now. As the class progressed through various stances and basic punches, Thelma struggled visibly. Her movements were stiff and awkward, her timing consistently off when they practiced simple blocks. She seemed to forget the sequences, dropping into wrong stances or moving in the opposite direction from everyone else.
She could hear the snickers, could feel the side eyes from both students and instructor, but she persisted, her face a mask of concentration.
After class, as students filtered out, Thelma approached Rick. Despite the humiliation she had endured, she bowed deeply to him, showing proper dojo etiquette.
"Thank you, Sensei," she said. "I look forward to improving."
Rick seemed taken aback by her formality and composure. "Right. Well, see you Wednesday then."
In the locker room, Thelma could hear Tyler and Josh in the adjacent men's room, their voices carrying through the thin wall.
"Did you see her trying to do the horse stance?" Tyler's voice mocked. "Like a newborn giraffe."
Josh's deeper voice followed with a high-pitched imitation. "Thank you, Sensei. Like she's in some old kung fu movie."
Mia's voice cut in, quieter but clear. "Come on, guys. That's enough."
"What? You're defending her now?" Tyler challenged. "She doesn't belong here, and you know it."
"Whatever." Mia responded. "I've got to go."
Thelma changed quietly, folding the gi neatly before returning it to Amanda at the front desk. She walked to her car with dignity, her cane tapping a steady rhythm on the asphalt.
The drive home was silent. No radio, no distractions, just the steady hum of the engine and the weight of the day's events.