by Sarah Deming
“And it’s why they like you. Everybody likes you ’cause you finally beat her.”
Gravity laughed, adjusting the elastic of the plastic suit where it dug into her stomach. Mingled sweat and condensation dripped down her forehead and off her nose. She spat some more in her bottle.
There was a light as Kaylee turned on her phone.
“It’s six-thirty,” she announced. “We need to stay in here until the last possible second. It takes five minutes to get to the conference room. I can dry off and change in three.”
“Me too.”
They sweated silently for a while, then Gravity asked, “Do you mind if I pee?”
“Go ahead.”
Kaylee held up the phone for her so she could find the toilet. It was a little hard to pee with someone else in the room, but Gravity managed. She washed her hands and shook them out into the sink since there were no more clean towels. Kaylee used up a lot of towels, too, which must have been another OCD thing. Gravity sat back down and said, “Can I ask you a personal question?”
“Sure.”
“I read on Carmen’s blog about your OCD.”
“Yeah.”
“What’s it like?”
“Well, it’s an anxiety disorder. I have this thing about germs. When I was in middle school and high school, it was really bad. It takes up a lot of your time. Now it’s better.” She was silent for a moment, and they listened to the sound of the shower. “I used to be on meds, but I think it depends on your life and how happy you are, just the happiness of knowing who you are. After a while, I didn’t need the drugs, because boxing made the repetitive thoughts go away.”
“I know what you mean,” Gravity said, thinking of how Coach’s voice in her head always silenced the angry words of her mother and the ache in her heart about her father.
The phone illuminated Kaylee’s red, dripping face. “Avast! It’s six-fifty. Let’s do a high-knee run for the last sixty seconds, matey. Just be careful not to slip.”
They did the interval, sloshing around in their suits, and then they turned off the water and dashed back into the bedroom, where the cold air gave Gravity goose bumps. Kaylee had hoarded a towel, but Gravity had to dry herself off on a pair of sweatpants. They were still 0.2 over on Kaylee’s scale, but they spat their hearts out on the way to the conference room, got on the scale buck naked, and made weight on the dot.
Gravity sat in between Aaliyah and Kaylee in the half-empty auditorium, cheering as Marisol Bonilla took the ring. The announcer introduced her twice, once in French and once in English. Five of them were fighting that night, in size order. Gravity had the St. Lucian champion in bout eight.
She gripped the PLASMAFuel bottle in her gauze-wrapped hand and took a deep swig, instructing the molecules of liquid to flow down into her rubbery legs and up into her pounding skull. She could not remember ever feeling this awful before a fight.
Wake up, she told herself. You are about to get in the ring.
After making weight, she and Kaylee had gone to the cafeteria and pounded smoothies with protein powder, then collapsed in shuddering heaps in bed, but Gravity’s headache had made sleep impossible.
She had gone down to the cafeteria again. The line was closed, but there was milk in the machine and she sat and drank it slowly at one of the tables. Two girls had come in, chattering and laughing and looking at her sideways. They had pretty headscarves and looked like identical twins. Gravity had the feeling she had seen them somewhere before.
“You Gravity?” one of them said in a lilting Caribbean accent.
“Yeah, hi.”
The girl lifted her chin. “I’ma teach you something about your name tonight!”
Her sister laughed and said, “The bigger they be, the harder they fall.”
“Okay, then,” Gravity said, taking another sip of milk. Something about the way the girls held themselves marked them as novices.
“I’m Honor and this is Truth,” the first girl said. “Truth fights Paloma tonight.”
“And Honor fights you,” Truth said. “You are in for a big surprise, Gravity.”
“I look forward to it,” Gravity said.
Gravity’s refusal to take offense seemed to confuse them, but she didn’t have the bandwidth to trash-talk. They took two apples from the line and headed off, staring daggers at her and whispering behind their hands. Gravity finished her milk and went back to her room. She still couldn’t sleep, so she called Coach, who repeated his mysterious advice from Spokane: “You have already defeated all your enemies.”
Gravity still did not understand what that meant, but the last time he’d said it to her, she had won all the marbles. She took two Advil PM and conked out until Kaylee woke her to go down to the fights.
She didn’t know if it was the Advil or the dehydration or her period coming on, but she had the chills and put on a double layer of thermals beneath her warm-ups just to stop from shaking. She did not let on to anyone how bad she felt. Kaylee must have known, though, because she kept her hand on the back of Gravity’s neck through much of Marisol’s bout, gently rubbing her nape.
The Brazilian champion was very aggressive, and she won the opening round, but Marisol kept it moving, circling the ring on her fast legs until the Brazilian hit her limit. Gravity joined her teammates in cheering on their littlest member’s win.
The Dominican and Argentine light flyweights had a clinch-filled contest won by Argentina, and then Aisha Johnson was up, facing a Colombian. Kaylee led everyone in a cheer of “U-U-USA!”
Gravity saw Carmen Cruz rise from the press row, gathering her pashmina around her, and dash across the auditorium to stand by the small Colombian team and join her voice to theirs, but the Colombian champion had no answer for Aisha’s power.
Aaliyah turned to Gravity and said, “She looks good, right?”
“She looks great,” Gravity said, giving her a pound.
“You okay?” Aaliyah did not let go of Gravity’s hand but grasped it strongly, fixing Gravity with her soulful hazel eyes.
“Yeah.”
Aaliyah cocked her head. “Don’t lie to me, youngster.”
She sighed. “I feel like shit. I dunno. Maybe I have the flu.”
Aaliyah nodded. “Doesn’t matter. You got an easy draw.”
“Yeah. They were talking shit to me in the cafeteria, but I get the feeling it’s an act.”
“Those who know don’t talk. Those who talk don’t know.”
Gravity smiled. That sounded like something Coach would say.
Aisha gave her opponent an eight count and Aaliyah leapt to her feet, screaming, “That’s my baby! Beautiful hook! She don’t like that!”
After the ref raised Aisha’s hand, Gravity rose to begin her warm-up.
Paloma was taking the ring to square off against Truth Hickson, the lighter of the St. Lucian sisters. The first exchange convinced Gravity that she and Aaliyah were correct: the St. Lucians were beginners.
She did some stretches she had learned from sexy Keeshawn, trying to banish the bone-deep fatigue. Thinking of Keeshawn made her think of Lefty, which made her think of Coach’s words about women weakening legs. Sex was supposed to be bad for a boxer.
What if Lefty had stolen her strength? This was her first fight since losing her virginity. That thought scared her, so she put it out of her head. There was a cheer from her team, and she looked up to see the ref raising Paloma’s hand. Aaliyah came over and put her strong arm around Gravity.
She said, “Paloma beat the shit out of the sister. Your girl will be shook.”
“Thanks.”
Aaliyah grinned and went back to cuddling Aisha. Maybe sex didn’t weaken legs after all, because Aisha and Aaliyah were sharing a room, and Aisha could not have looked stronger. Unless it was different for women. Or maybe Aaliyah and Aisha waited t
o have sex until after the tournament.
“Okay, champ!” Shorty said to Gravity. “We on a roll! You gonna keep it going!”
The official at the glove table inspected her wraps and signed them with a Magic Marker. Shorty gloved her up and gave her a round of pads. He was okay, but nothing like Fatso. Gravity went through the motions, willing her body to wake up.
As they prepared to take the ring, Shorty said, “You look tired.”
She looked at his tiny, bright eyes behind the little glasses.
“I’m fine,” she lied.
He laughed. “Start strong and you stop her. She greener than a dollar bill.”
“Okay.”
As Gravity walked past her team, everyone cheered and reached out to touch her glove.
“Arr,” Kaylee said. “Make her walk the plank!”
Sacred yelled, “Do you!”
Their love raised her morale, and as she stepped through the ropes and onto the firm canvas, the same magic thing happened that always happened: she felt happy. Despite the weakness that still hung over her limbs, she felt a sense of being exactly where she belonged. She looked down with wonder at the “USA” on her chest. This was the first time she had fought on behalf of her country.
Across the ring, the St. Lucian was shadowboxing all crazy, yelling with every punch.
Gravity got on her knees and sang the Shema. She thanked God, with all her heart, for easy work on this day when she felt so drained. She prayed that she might not hurt Honor and that Honor would not mess around and head-butt her or something. She prayed for fair judging, although she was not planning on leaving it in the judges’ hands.
In the staredown, Honor’s almond-shaped brown eyes bored into Gravity’s with a hostility that bordered on insane. When Gravity extended her gloves, Honor slammed hers down on top of them. Despite Gravity’s fatigue, she grinned around her mouthpiece.
Back in the corner, Shorty hugged her through the ropes. His head barely came up to her neck.
“She gonna come wild,” he said. “Don’t worry. One good right hand, and boom.”
“Yeah.”
She shuffled out at the bell, keeping her guard high, and caught Honor’s shots on her gloves and forearms: arm punches, lacking proper leverage. Gravity’s mother hit harder than that. She waited until Honor was done and then fired back a single jab.
It pushed her back, so Gravity followed with a hard right to the chin. Honor closed her eyes and halfway turned away. Gravity took a deep breath, slid out to the right to get distance, and threw two more straight right hands, both of them at the head. The second one dropped her.
Gravity backpedaled to the neutral corner as the referee gave the count and Honor rose bravely, shaking her head. Gravity turned off the part of her that liked this girl. Because she liked Honor a lot: her swagger, her game, the fact that she had a twin. Twins were lucky.
She looked into the bleachers to where her teammates were cheering her knockdown. They looked like an advertisement for feminism in America: all of them on their feet, yelling with joy, even Paloma. Aisha and Aaliyah were holding up a big American flag, and Kiki, all gloved up and ready to go in next, had stopped shadowboxing to cheer.
Sacred’s loud voice floated to her ears: “Make us proud!”
Gravity shuffled out again, hands high and elbows tight. She knew Honor would rush her, trying to prove the knockdown hadn’t mattered. Once again, she let her say her piece, catching the shots on her guard. When Honor was done, Gravity got the last word.
The referee was watching carefully. All Gravity had to do was give her an excuse to end it. She took a little strength off and put it into speed, landing the kind of showy five-punch combination that D-Minus excelled at. The ref stepped between them, waving it off.
Honor was so angry she ripped off her gloves and threw them to the canvas, then jumped up and down. The referee, a glamorous Dominican with an Amazon’s build, watched with amusement, arms folded over her chest.
“Are you through?” she said at last.
Honor nodded.
When the ref raised Gravity’s hand, Kaylee led the team in a chant of “Doomsday.”
BOXINGFORGIRLS.COM
PUGILISM’S PREEMINENT CYBERSCRIBE
Carmen Cruz, Independent Journalist
April 8, 2016
US Continues Strong on Day Two of Continentals: Miller, Gonzales, Delgado Advance; Fanning Eliminated
CORNWALL, ONTARIO—The US went 3–1 on the second night of exciting action in the American Continental Championships. Although this tournament is nonadvancing, it gives the fighters vital international experience and the chance to test themselves in preparation for next month’s World Championships in China.
In the Olympic flyweight class, Kaylee Miller won unanimously over Gisela Suarez of Argentina, who boxed well but lacked the power to stand up to Miller’s aggressive onslaught. The rest of the flyweight bouts were mismatches in which strong champions from Canada, Puerto Rico, and Brazil blew out novices from Mexico, Ecuador, and the Dominican Republic. The women’s amateur programs in many of these countries are still developing.
The 119-pounders made a strong argument for the opening of more Olympic weights. Carolina Berenbaum of Argentina put on a boxing clinic against the game Dominican Arisleyda Martinez. Aisha Johnson, fresh off last night’s victory over my countrywoman Ileana Santos—good fight, Ileana!—squared off against Toronto’s excellent Kathleen Glynn. Johnson won the close, strategic match by split decision. In the final bantamweight contest, Brazil took a lopsided decision over the lone Jamaican here.
The Olympic lightweight class was up next, featuring some of the strongest fighters in the tournament. Reigning Pan American champion Nydia Tapia of Puerto Rico handily outboxed Ecuador. Tomorrow she will face Brazil’s fearsome puncher Ariana Leite, who advanced unopposed when Barbados withdrew due to injury.
Brooklyn phenom Gravity Delgado, who got a soft touch last night in Honor Hickson of St. Lucia, looked uncharacteristically sluggish as she eked out a narrow unanimous decision over Quebec City’s workmanlike Annie Bervin. The final lightweight bout had the sparse crowd on their feet as Mexico’s Sylvia Rosalba Sánchez pulled out the split decision over Argentina’s Maria Suarez. The two Latina warriors never stopped trading in this punch-fest fought in a Canadian phone booth.
In the sole welterweight bout of the evening, Manitoba’s powerful Amanda Ross outboxed talented newcomer Nakima Fanning of Newark by unanimous decision. Action continues tomorrow in the fly, bantam, feather, light, and middleweight divisions, featuring the return to the ring of reigning Olympic champion Sacred Jones.
Gravity was lying in bed ogling Keeshawn’s Instagram to wash out the bad taste in her mouth from reading Carmen’s description of her as “uncharacteristically sluggish” when the ominous text from Melsy came in.
Hey cuz I wanna ask u something
She texted back:
What’s up?
Melsy wrote:
Ever since the fights your boy Demetrius keeps texting me being all cute. You mind if i hang with him?
Gravity felt the wind go out of her, as though she had been hit by a good body shot. She must have made some sound of distress, because Kaylee said, “Are you okay?”
Kaylee was sitting cross-legged in bed, rolling up a pair of handwraps, her blond hair up in a messy topknot. She was the perfect roommate, despite her ravenous consumption of towels and toilet paper. She always seemed to know when to leave Gravity alone and when to talk, when to be a goofball and when to get serious. And she boxed with such commitment.
“My cousin is asking me if she can date this kid from my gym.”
“Is he your ex or something?”
“No.”
“So why’s she need your permission?”
“She…she thought maybe I liked him.
She’s just asking to be considerate.”
Kaylee cocked her head. “She sounds like a great cousin.”
“She is.” Gravity wished she could explain why it hurt so much, but she wasn’t sure she knew herself. She bent over the phone, a dull ache still in her chest. She texted back:
Of course M, have fun!
She added some smileys and pressed Send before she lost her nerve. She was immediately seized with a terrible sinking feeling in her stomach.
The answer came right back:
You’re the best G! Hey you did great last night!!!
Gravity wrote, Love you, cuz, then turned off her phone and went to drink some milk.
She had not done great last night. It had been one of the most cringeworthy performances of her career. Paloma had been right about Annie Bervin—she was tough but past her prime and had never been a world-beater—yet Gravity had been behind at the halfway mark and had needed a strong rally to win.
And now she had her period and had to fight that Mexican. Gravity had watched Sylvia Rosalba Sánchez battle the Argentine champ. She was the kind of fighter Mexico was known for: relentless forward motion, all aggression, lots of body-head combos. Gravity felt tired just thinking about it. If only she could have had a single night off.
When she got to the cafeteria, she saw that Honor and Truth were in there again, playing cards with a deck printed with the St. Lucian flag. Gravity nodded as she passed them, and they murmured something to each other. She ignored it, filled up a mug with milk, chugged it, and filled it up again.
She tried to carry the milk to a table by the window, but Truth yelled, “Hey, Gravity!” in her singing accent, beckoning her over.
Gravity approached, bracing herself.
The twins rose. They had the same short, natural hair, bleached to a canary yellow. It would have been hard to tell them apart, but Honor, having bulked up, had the fuller face. Truth had cheekbones sharp as knives.
“It was an honor to fight you,” Honor said.