Gloves Off

by Louisa Reid

  pocket it,

  lock it

  up safe,

  is the shape of a heart.

  she has

  chocolate eyes

  and soft skin,

  rosy cheeks.

  and the way she looks at me

  as she holds the bag

  and i punch

  makes me sometimes forget

  my own name.

  my partner,

  rosie,

  who calls goodbye

  and walks away

  with a spring in her stride.

  i’m glad

  we don’t get in the ring.

  “not yet,”

  jane says,

  “you get out what you put in.”

  she means work harder

  don’t give up,

  teaches me how to wrap my hands

  watches as i lift the weights

  and punch my arms out straight,

  twist at the waist.

  “you’re strong,” she says,

  “but footwork –

  watch the mirror.”

  (i look everywhere but

  at the girl who’s waiting for me

  who looks like me

  but who isn’t me.

  and jane sighs

  and i see

  the questions in her eyes.)

  weight on your back foot

  baby steps,

  be ready to push

  to throw your weight

  behind your punch

  her voice follows me

  around school,

  as i walk home,

  and i try.

  BERNADETTE (12)

  Clare says she’ll take me,

  The baby bawling in the back.

  “Come on!” she says

  “Or you’ll be late!”

  I get my bag and keys and stand

  On the front step.

  The path to the gate has never been longer –

  How long has it been?

  Years,

  I think,

  I’ve been standing here

  Weighing up

  My life.

  It takes for ever

  But then

  I struggle into the seat, with the belt,

  Leave it in the end,

  And my sister pretends not to notice.

  “I think you’re doing the right thing,” she says.

  People look up as I walk in,

  And I have to pretend to smile.

  Easier to look as if you do not understand

  Why their eyes

  Come out on stalks,

  To act as if

  You are not a sideshow,

  A circus act.

  Try not to let them hear you breathe.

  I think I might just go home.

  Don’t think this can be done.

  The doctor listens to my

  Silence

  Before she listens to my heart.

  She is waiting for me to explain

  What I want from her,

  Why I’m taking up her time.

  And I can’t find my

  First line.

  READY?

  she knocks me down –

  holds out her hand

  and pulls me up.

  we try again.

  she knocks me down,

  holds out her hand.

  i hold on,

  perhaps too long.

  she pulls me up.

  “not bad,”

  she says,

  and i see her smile

  as she knocks me down

  and pulls me up.

  “you’ve got to try

  at least,”

  laughs rosie.

  jane is watching.

  “come on, girls, let’s move.”

  and rosie grins again,

  lifts her glove to her head

  pushes sweat from her face.

  “this time don’t let me win,”

  she says.

  and

  so,

  i

  give

  it

  all

  i’ve

  got.

  rosie ducks.

  she knocks me down –

  and pulls me up.

  NORMAL

  “pizza,” rosie says, drying her hair

  staring in the mirror

  and i wonder what she sees

  when she looks there.

  no one would dare

  to mess with rosie.

  “you wanna come?”

  i turn my back,

  struggle into clean clothes.

  “a group of us are going,

  it’ll be fun?”

  when we get to the place

  people

  smile.

  and it’s a shock,

  because i’m waiting for them to do that thing –

  sneers and sniggers, snide smirks that trigger

  my desire to hide.

  because i’m watching their reactions

  as i lift the food into my mouth

  the looks that say:

  pig

  (just leaves and greens, but still, i can smell

  the pepperoni, and my mouth waters,

  and i

  would

  kill

  for a slice.)

  “here,” rosie says,

  “take some.”

  as she helps herself to a mouthful from my plate.

  no,

  i shake my head,

  and sip water instead.

  because i’m waiting for the chair to break

  for the girls to laugh and run away.

  but

  nothing happens.

  no one even looks my way.

  rosie shrugs,

  “aren’t you starving?”

  i’m on a diet,

  i say out of the corner of my mouth, so the others

  don’t hear –

  like it’s a confession,

  like i’m asking someone to forgive me –

  her,

  especially.

  she rolls her eyes –

  “eat the frigging pizza,”

  she says

  and puts it on my plate.

  “it’s good! and you’re fine, lil,

  i swear!”

  BERNADETTE (13)

  Blood pressure

  BMI

  Inches

  Stones

  Pounds

  Kilos

  Grams

  Heart Rate

  Pulse

  Waist and Thighs.

  Numbers which

  Are all too high.

  Highest marks I’ve ever had,

  I joke,

  But this isn’t funny,

  The doctor frowns

  Reminding me that

  I am indeed a fool.

  She takes my blood pressure.

  The first time a stranger has touched me in years,

  And I don’t look at my body

  In her manicured hands,

  But my blood races and pounds

  I can hear it,

  Rushing

  Plummeting

  Waterfalls of fear.

  Scales next.

  I shake my head.

  All of me is trembling now.

  She doesn’t need to read a number to know the

  situation.

  The walls I’ve built around my life

  Are crashing to the ground

  Bricks and stones and rocks are flying, glass is shattering

  Everything is being stripped away

  Leaving me exposed.

  “There’s no judgement,” the doctor says,

  But I don’t believe her.

  And feel I should apologize.

  Instead I tell her what I want.

  Dr Grice tells me,

  In a voice that’s stern,

  That surgery’s no magic wand.

  It’s a big decision.

&
nbsp; To put your heart under such pressure,

  It’s no simple solution,

  And there are risks involved.

  There will have to be further

  Consultations

  And there are other ways,

  You know.

  Does she think I haven’t tried?

  Help me, please, I say.

  And she looks at me,

  With eyes that show

  She knows

  I’m human after all

  And nods,

  Okay.

  GO!

  next session

  rosie isn’t there,

  and i train with kezia

  who is new too.

  except kezia

  is one of those girls

  who looks like she was born

  wearing trainers,

  and who can’t stand still.

  whose body just knows

  how to move

  without

  s

  t

  u

  m

  bl

  ing.

  “come on,”

  she says,

  “it’s not hard,”

  and i throw my punch again.

  she ducks

  and dives

  runs circles

  around me

  and

  i realize

  how patient rosie’s been.

  how maybe she feels sorry

  for the loser

  and laughs about me later,

  will soon move on

  when she gets bored.

  i don’t want her pity,

  i don’t want my own.

  too late.

  kezia walks away,

  doesn’t look back.

  then, just as i’m about to slink off,

  jane asks me to stay behind,

  i wait for what it is that’s on her mind.

  “look,” she starts, then sighs,

  and i know she’s going to tell me

  i’m wasting my time.

  “do you really want to be here, lil?

  i see potential,

  you’re strong

  you’re bright.

  but –

  it’s time to bring it,

  if you want to fight.

  i mean, it’s no fun

  to get knocked down

  over and over and over,

  right?”

  she puts her arm around my shoulder,

  leads me to the mirror,

  holds my chin

  in her fingers,

  i shut my eyes.

  “you have the right,”

  she says,

  “to win.”

  SO PROVE IT

  jane’s pushing me,

  but i don’t feel like

  taking it today.

  her face is set

  like marble, carved

  to show no sympathy.

  it’s pouring outside

  and i’m dripping,

  hot and sour, drenched vinegar by the sky,

  i’ve walked here –

  miles –

  so now i just can’t begin to try.

  “don’t sulk, lil, get ready, let’s go,”

  jane says, pulling on her own gloves,

  so,slowlyistepup,

  and duck into the ring

  already heavy with defeat,

  bricks in my boots.

  i guess this is a test,

  got to prove

  that i mean it

  that i’m for real

  that i want this,

  no matter how crappy i feel.

  the others gather

  again.

  the trainers, the girls,

  would-be boxers –

  seems people like

  to watch me fail.

  and

  something

  lodges

  in my throat,

  a desperate

  swell

  of words

  that want to

  splurge, that make me choke –

  can’t cough it up

  can’t spit it out

  can’t swear or shout.

  we spar.

  jane sets the pace,

  too good,

  she’s fast

  and strong –

  relentless.

  ten,

  fifteen,

  twenty

  minutes

  pass.

  time

  is

  a weight,

  swinging

  around my neck,

  a heavy bell

  that never rings.

  IT HURTS

  let me stop.

  i’m crying

  panting

  doubled over

  wheezing

  on the floor

  heaving

  goingthrow

  likei’mtoup.

  please, i can’t.

  i look at jane, asking for help,

  but she shakes her head,

  “you can,” jane says,

  not one bit out of breath,

  “get up,

  come on,

  let’s go.”

  no.

  my audience stirs,

  and i will them gone,

  almost lift my head to swear,

  but then

  something happens.

  i hear it first

  as if from miles away

  a whisper, a murmur,

  my name –

  “Li ly,”

  it begins,

  and then,

  “Li ly,”

  again

  and again

  “Li ly,

  Li ly,”

  they roar.

  and i peer up

  through the mess of my tears,

  but no one is laughing

  or taking the piss,

  faces intense

  urging

  stirring

  telling me that i’m better than this –

  pushing me up

  with the power of their words

  so

  i crawl to my knees,

  and

  jane holds out her hand.

  i stand

  all by myself,

  and fill up my lungs,

  take another step forward, back into the pain.

  PAIN

  wrists sore

  knuckles bloody,

  shaking hands.

  only the moon can see

  me work myself

  into a sweat,

  collapse

  and

  start again.

  BERNADETTE (14)

  If you don’t take care

  Of things they spoil.

  Milk left out in the warm

  Will curdle.

  Flies will colonize

  Meat, bleeding on a plate in the sun.

  Gardens left to grow wild

  Will become nothing but weeds.

  And bodies,

  Unloved,

  May, for all you know,

  House hearts

  That have dried

  Like leaves on a plant

  Unwatered.

  COURAGE

  white mornings,

  the sky like broken glass

  and i’m running in the dark

  and wondering how long

  my heart will last.

  and then i remember

  that i

  will

  not

  give

  up.

  CHRISTMAS SHOPPING

  i stay late

  homework holding me back –

  i’ve let things slip,

  so it’s dark

  when i make my way out of school,

  doors slamming behind me.

  “stay safe,” miss calls,

  “take care, lily, is someone coming

  to pick you up?”

  i pretend not to hear.

 
; the wind sneaks inside my clothes,

  the cold weaves around my legs

  mottling my thighs

  pinching my toes.

  my skirt is too short –

  though mum’s let it out as far as it will go –

  everything has its limits,

  and there’s no money

  to buy new things,

  not right now

  with Christmas round the corner.

  i wander into town

  to stare at the lights

  and peer into the shops

  full of stuff

  that might make you happy.

  even our town looks

  better

  at this time of year,

  and i catch the sound

  of Christmas songs

  as doors open into other worlds.

  heat

  leaks out

  and pulls me inside,

  warm with thoughts of what i might find.

  saved bus money buys

  perfume for mum

  that smells of roses

  and the pink that she loves.

  i get dad gloves

  and remember

  holding his hand

  when i was small.

  stuff to say thanks,

  and sorry too,

  for all

  of this aggro,

  this whole ugly mess

  a daughter who couldn’t stand up for herself.

  it’s late

  when i take a shortcut

  down the old railway track

  towards home.

  there’s no one else about

  as street lights fade behind me,

  pitching me into the dark,

  and i hum a song

  about last Christmas.

  but the shove in my back

  knocks the tune from my head,

  batters the wind out of my lungs,

  it sends me down flat

  and i don’t even

  have a second to scream

  before

  there’s a boot in my

  belly

  a foot in my face.

  my arms over my head,

  i try to curl

  into a ball, like a snail in its shell,

  but they’re fast

  and i’m winded

  and

  b r e a k i n g u p a l l o v e r a g a i n

  fucking fat lez bitch

  someone says

  and something,

  piss,