Authors: R. K. Ryals
“Why?” I asked quietly and calmly.
Turning away, she gripped the steering wheel
until her knuckles whitened. “Because of you.”
“Me?”
“I don’t want to like you,” she breathed.
Remembering what she’d written on my punching
bag—death and love—I stared. “So being with me is hurting you?”
“No … I don’t know.”
For a long time, I stood there watching the
war of emotions that flitted across her face, and something in me
shifted.
“So, you did it because you feel something
for me?”
“Partly,” she revealed. “It wasn’t all
because of you.”
But part of it
was.
Cutting meant that
whatever she’d felt had been too big for her, and that affected me
more than I knew how to put into words.
Leaning into the van, I slid my hand behind
Tansy’s neck, pulled her toward me, and then kissed her. Soft and
slow.
“I like you, too,” I said, releasing her.
Her breathing came in spurts, her cheeks
reddening. “This is a really bad time for this. With my dad
passing, Deena, the work—”
“Be at the boxing club tomorrow after Deena’s
class,” I ordered, interrupting.
“You know, you can really be such an
ass.”
I smiled. “If by ass, you mean me stopping
you from cataloguing all of the reasons why this is a bad time for
the two of us to be interested in each other, then yeah, I’m a
total asshole.”
In a relatively short time, Tansy had
succeeded in doing something not many people had been able to do
after years of knowing me. She’d gotten under my skin.
Part of it was because I saw myself in her;
the way she hid from herself and from the idea of relationships.
Part of it was because I’d seen so much of her and who she was
through her family’s eyes, their anger and their love. I’d been
with a lot of women, but I’d never dug deeper than the bedroom with
them.
Strange what we discover about ourselves
through people. Not things or stuff that happens to us. People.
If there were aliens out there in the
universe—Tansy had me on a whole science kick now—I had no doubt
they were sitting around eating alien popcorn, watching us like we
were the best thing that ever happened to intergalactic reality
television.
I blamed my sister Heather for the reality TV
analogy. She’d forced enough of that shit down mine and Jonathan’s
throats growing up, and yet wasn’t that the appeal of it? Watching
people interact with each other, watching how other people reacted
to them, and then deciding afterwards if you liked them based on
that.
Based on that, I had to admit, I liked Tansy
a lot.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I insisted.
She studied my face, murmured something about
how arrogantly relentless I was, and then left.
Afterwards, I wandered around the orchard for
hours, night falling around me, smoking a cigarette, and thinking
how surprised I was that this place didn’t really bore me. Not like
I kept telling everyone it did. How surprised I was that no matter
how quiet this place seemed to be, there was still so much going
on.
Like space. Looking up at the night sky felt
like the loneliest thing in the world until you realized it was
crammed full of stars. The moon was the outsider, the intruder
circling the Earth surrounded by pinpricks of glitter. How
different did that world feel to the moon?
Tansy and her perspective was rubbing off on
me. First there was shitting sun babies, and now there was a big
giant moon lost in a sea of chaos.
And me. Smoking a cigarette. In the dark.
Wondering about that moon.
Tansy
Was it possible to feel too much? Was it
possible to have so many emotions inside of your body that you just
felt like you were going to explode?
This ran through my thoughts for the rest of
the night after leaving Eli. The room at my grandmother’s house,
her dog, and my knitting had become middle of the night companions.
The cutting, too, recently, but not tonight.
Instead, I stared at Snow, who should really
be re-named Piss because of her color, and I thought about how much
I was beginning to like the dog. How much I loved the orchard and
the thought of creating a garden there. My garden. A small
thumbprint I could leave on the Earth.
I thought about my mother, which I hadn’t
done in forever, and about how crazy I might be. All random
thoughts. None of them I had answers for.
Was I crazy? Was that why
cutting myself felt so good, why the few times I’d done it felt
so
needed
?
Then again, was everyone crazy? Was the
planet full of crazy people, and because we were all crazy, we just
didn’t know it?
Like Eli’s mom. She seemed so young and
immature, and yet there was something very sad and old about her.
Like her body had aged, but she’d fought it every step of the way
until she’d worn herself out. A wind-up toy with a broken
crank.
When I was a little girl—when my mother was
still alive, and the world didn’t seem so dark—she used to tell me
that nothing was a coincidence.
We would be at the grocery store, and there’d
be a rogue shopping cart barreling toward a car when Mom would
catch it, and say, “I’ve got it.” Then she’d looked down at me and
add, “Coincidence? I think not.”
She said it so many times that I started to
believe it. That people were put in places for a reason, strategic
human chess pieces, and that nothing happened by chance.
Coincidence? I think not.
Which is why it hurt so bad when she died.
How could the universe do that? How could it place her in a moment
that destroyed her? In the game of chess, Mom lost. Checkmate
universe. And if there were no coincidences, if everyone’s paths
were pre-destined, then why did it have to be so cruel?
I stayed up all night asking myself a million
questions I had no answers for. A million questions zipping through
my brain until the sun rose and chased them away.
Then, once those were gone, I spent the day
trying to decide if I was actually going to go to the boxing club
that afternoon or if I was going to fake an illness.
Eli scared the shit out of me.
Had his being on the roof of the hospital
been my pre-destined moment? If he was that moment for me, what
kind of game, good or bad, was the universe playing with me?
Because, no matter what my mother believed, I was ready for some
coincidences in my life. I was ready for things to just happen as
they happened. No pre-planned shit. No pre-packaged meals, that
once opened, became covered in mold.
Just happy coincidences.
Lots and lots of happy coincidences.
Eli
I was ready, all warmed up and prepared, when
my afternoon class came in, Deena bringing up the rear.
“You look different, man,” Roger commented,
studying me.
I threw him a look.
He didn’t apologize for the “man”
reference.
“You’re smiling,” Deena added. “It’s
creepy.”
Said smile grew. “That’s what trainers who
intend to inflict a lot of pain do,” I pointed out.
I worked them hard. An hour of stretches,
warm up, stance, and blocking. Because one of the most important
lessons in boxing was defense. Protecting oneself meant not going
down before getting in a punch.
They learned to dance the way boxers dance,
not to music but to survive.
“Your objective is to avoid the worst blows,”
I told them, “and even then you’re going to get tired. Go into the
ring with the assumption that the guy or girl standing across from
you is better trained, faster, and throws a much meaner punch. Not
because they are or can, but so that you can be better prepared to
defend yourself in case they are. Go in there knowing you’re going
to have to defend yourself as hard as you’re going to have to fight
to win.”
“So you want us to go in feeling less than
our opponent?” Carrot asked, annoyed.
“Never,” I answered, staring him down. “You
go in there knowing you can win, but you also go in there knowing
your opponent is going to surprise you. Expect the worst and work
to predict the unexpected so you can get past that and surprise him
or her with the best you’ve got.”
“Christ, it sounds like you’re talking in
circles,” Deena grumbled.
I smirked. “Sometimes boxing feels like
you’re going in circles, but there’s nothing wrong with circles.
It’s a damn good shape. Because no matter how beaten up you feel by
the end of a fight, you’re going to start back over where you
started. Win or lose. Losing just means coming back to that circle
stronger, harder, and more prepared the next time.”
“I’m going to have to start bringing a
dictionary to this class,” Roger complained.
“Good.” I patted him on the back. “When I’m
done with you, you’ll all speak as well as you fight.”
“I think I hate him,” one of the other boys,
a brunette who I’d learned was called Nathan, whispered loudly.
I ushered them to the ring, which was empty
because unlike the beginning of the week, they were the last class
of the day on Wednesdays.
“Let’s dance!” I clapped.
Climbing into the ring, I touched a rope I’d
pulled across it, showed them how to use it to learn how to avoid a
punch, and then stepped back, letting each of them take a turn at
it.
Deena was the last to come through, the tip
of her tongue showing through her teeth as she concentrated. The
mouth piece was going to be an important piece of equipment for
her.
The door to the gym opened, and Jonathan and
Tansy walked through.
I glanced at the clock. “That’s it,” I
announced. “Time’s up. See you guys next week.”
Like a herd of stampeding, trumpeting
elephants, they all left, Roger nudging Deena as he passed.
My gaze found Tansy, my chin rising,
preparing for war, because as much as she was going to hate me for
it later, I was about to piss her off.
“Hey,” I called, waving at my brother and
Tansy. “You two want to try this boxing thing out?”
“Not my sport, remember?” Tansy replied.
Jonathan kept his mouth shut.
“It’s not Jonathan’s either,” leaning over, I
picked up a pair of hook and loop gloves, “but he’s given it a
go.”
Tansy eyed me, suspicious and confused. “I
didn’t come here to try out boxing.”
“You came here because I asked you to, didn’t
you?”
Her gaze narrowed. Jonathan and Deena glanced
between us.
“What are you up to, Eli?” Tansy asked.
“Are you scared to try?” I persisted.
“Eli—”
“Here I thought you liked pain.”
It was a low blow and Tansy froze. Jonathan
and Deena had no idea what we were talking about, but Tansy
did.
I turned to look at Jonathan. “What about
you, Jon? Want to get in the ring with me?”
Tansy’s silence was thick enough to fill the
room, her cheeks reddening.
“I’m definitely not up for it,” Jonathan
said, laughing.
I didn’t look at Tansy, but I knew I’d hurt
her. If it was possible to feel fury, her stare would have lit me
on fire.
“I’ll have a go at it!” Deena
volunteered.
Tansy brushed past her, her hands gripping
the edge of the ring. “I’ll do it,” she whispered, cleared her
throat, and then said more loudly, “Fight me.”
Jonathan glanced around the empty gym, his
gaze darting nervously. “Um, is Ray still here?”
“Nope,” I answered, my gaze locked on
Tansy’s. “I’m closing for him. Mouse will be here in a few for the
keys.”
The time it took for Jonathan to question me
gave Tansy more time to be angry.
Here I thought you liked pain.
Her gaze shot daggers in my direction. “Fight
me,” she repeated.
Stepping back, I gestured at the ring, face
completely devoid of emotion. This was my house, and I was inviting
her into it. She had too many walls, and I had every intention of
crumbling a few of them.
Tansy
I hadn’t been sure what to
expect when Eli invited me to the boxing club, but this wasn’t it.
Humiliation burned my cheeks, and even though I’m sure Jonathan and
Deena didn’t know what Eli was referring to with the pain
bit,
I
knew, and it
stung. It stung my pride and my heart.
I glowered. “Fight me.”
Eli stepped back, gesturing at the ring.
Deena laughed. “You two are nuts. You don’t
even know how to box, Tansy.”
Technically, she didn’t either … yet.
Lifting the ropes, I climbed into the ring
and approached Eli. “You got me in here. Is that what you
wanted?”
His eyes tracked me. “Take these,” he said,
offering me a pair of boxing gloves. “Just pull them on.
Ordinarily, I’d wrap your hands and put on a pair of lace up
gloves, but this isn’t really about boxing.”
I hesitated, my anger receding. “Then what is
this?”
His gaze darted to Deena, and then back to
me. “It’s about you, and it’s about pain.” He glanced at my sister.
“Tell me something about Tansy, Deena. Anything.”
“Okay …” she said slowly, her curious gaze
flicking to me. “Good or bad?”
“Whatever you feel like.” Eli handed me the
gloves. “Just slide them on and fasten them,” he instructed.
I gripped them. “I don’t want to do
this.”
“Come on, Deena,” Eli encouraged, pretending
I hadn’t spoken.
From outside the ring, Jonathan fidgeted.
“Hey, I don’t know about this.”
Eli ignored him. “Deena?”
“She’s a hard worker,” Deena said
finally.
I exhaled, not even realizing I’d been
holding my breath.
Eli eyed me. “The gloves, Tansy.”
“Why?” I asked, stupefied.
He drew near, took them from me, and started
sliding them onto my hands. “I don’t care if you don’t know a damn
thing about boxing. This,” he looked up at the ring, “is something
a friend did for me a long time ago before I even knew what boxing
would mean to me.” Fastening the second glove, he gripped my arms
and stared into my eyes. “Anytime you hear something you don’t
like, hit me.”