by R. K. Ryals
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.”
I wasn’t sure I heard him correctly. “What?”
“Hit me,” he repeated. “Anytime you hear or feel something you can’t handle, hit me and give it everything you’ve got.”
My lips parted. “You’re joking. What about you?”
He grinned. “I can take it. I’ve been taken down by some mean bastards over the years. I think I can handle this.”
“You’re nuts,” I breathed.
“Wait a minute,” Deena called from the ropes, shocked. “You’re saying that she can hit you as much as she wants whenever she just feels bad?”
Eli stared at me. “That’s the plan.
Deena snorted. “I don’t know about you, but I like this.”
“For now you do.” Eli glanced at her. “That may change.” Standing in front of me, legs apart, he said, “Give me something else, Deena. Something about your sister. Anything.”
“She’s too quiet.”
I glanced at her. “And that’s a bad thing?”
She gave me a haughty look. “Sometimes I want to hear you scream. Anything to show me you can lose your calm like the rest of us. I don’t know. Be angry.”
My brows furrowed. “I don’t want to be angry.”
Annoyance crossed her features. “If you got angry, I wouldn’t feel so bad about being angry at you,” she revealed, eyes swirling with shadows. “Instead I feel guilty because I am.”
I caught a glimpse of Jonathan in my peripheral vision, his demeanor stiff and uncomfortable, and I just couldn’t go any further. “I can’t do this.”
I wasn’t a scene stealer or hungry for attention.
“I’m going to go outside,” Jonathan murmured, leaving.
Deena was on a roll. “We should do this. Don’t quit on me now, sis. Quitting has been done. It’s so three years ago, wouldn’t you agree?” Glaring, she gripped the ropes. “You changed yourself, Tansy. After everything that happened with Mom, you just changed without even thinking about what it would do to me!”
This wasn’t some game Eli had devised. This was getting serious. By the fire in Deena’s eyes, she realized it, too. This was the confrontation our family had been avoiding since we’d stood next to Dad’s hospital bed.
My blood ran cold. “I was protecting myself.”
Deena laughed cruelly. “What about protecting me? From the rumors, the hateful stares, comments, and speculation.”
“Deena—”
Her hand came up, stopping me. “Then you just left school. You fucking left! You abandoned me to all of it! Mom abandoned me. Dad abandoned me. Jet abandoned me. You … you were supposed to be the one who didn’t leave me hanging, but you did! It doesn’t matter that you were in the same house. It doesn’t matter that you stayed here. What matters is that I needed you at school with me, and you left.”
My fists tightened inside the gloves; my lips pinched together. She’s only fourteen. I had to keep reminding myself of that. I had to keep telling myself that, for her, it would have seemed like I left her when I never did.
“You could have tried harder, Tansy,” Deena added.
Could I?
“Hit me,” Eli hissed.
“No.”
Reaching out, he touched me, his fingers grazing my outer left thigh. On purpose. Pain radiated up my leg, and I winced, filling me with euphoria and regret. Suddenly it was there … anger. Shitloads of anger.
Years of resentment bubbled up inside of me. Why now? Why did people want to know so damn much about me now?
My right glove shot out, catching Eli squarely in the gut. He took it, caught off guard a second, before he regained his balance, never flinching.
“That’s it,” he murmured. “That’s my girl.”
His girl?
His words should have registered in my brain, but they didn’t. All I saw was red.
Deena froze, perhaps surprised I had this kind of violent energy inside of me.
An avalanche of things I’d worked so hard to hide spilled forth, choking me, and there was nothing I could do except lash out. After the first hit, there was no stopping it, as if that punch was the permission my body needed to keep doing it. Over and over again.
My boxing gloves pummeled Eli. I’d forgotten it was him. There were too many memories clouding my vision.
I wasn’t punching Eli. I was striking my father, my mother, my siblings, and even myself.
With the punches, came the words. Words I didn’t want to say. Words I knew would hurt, words I knew I couldn’t take back. I heard myself talking, but I couldn’t stop.
Shut up, Tansy, I told myself.
“I keep trying to forget about all of it,” I shouted instead, gasping. “About Mom dying, Dad disappearing into his own world, and the three of us trying to exist. Abandoned. I keep trying to forget, but everyone keeps dragging it out into the light. There’s so much blame.”
Hit, hit, hit. Over and over again.
“I didn’t want to change,” I confessed. “I didn’t want to be different, but Dad went to such a dark place, Deena. It got so bad that he didn’t see me anymore. He saw Mom when he looked at me. He saw Mom, and there were things in his eyes that scared me. Desire, need, and hope. Things he wanted his wife for, not the daughter who looked like her. I couldn’t be Mom. I couldn’t lay in bed every night wondering if he would wander into my room and mistake me for her. There were times before I changed my appearance that he looked at me like he wanted me. In that way. I felt dirty and scared. And so very alone.”
Hit, hit, hit. Over and over again.
“There were so many new things coming at me. New fears. Confusing new worries. Could we pay the bills on time when Dad was using all of his vacation and sick days and then refusing to go in once those were up? Could we get away with taking over for him without getting the state involved? Without you getting taken away, Deena!”
Hit, hit, hit. Over and over again.
“When Dad finally quit work altogether, Jet took a job that paid shit. It just wasn’t enough. I couldn’t afford to stay on the squad at school. I couldn’t afford to stay in all of the clubs. There was so much we had to let go of to keep things moving until I could work, too. Bills piled up, taxes had to be filed, and we had to attend school. Dad needed so much help. There was so much piss, vomit, and tears.”
Hit, hit, hit. Over and over again.
“And school … God, it was the worst. You don’t think I didn’t hear the whispers, the things people said about me when I dropped out of everything? The things they said when I changed the way I looked? I heard them. Sometimes I heard them so much that I hid from them because knowing you’ve changed is one thing, but having people spec
ulate about the why … some of the things they came up with. What was worse is that none of their assumptions were as bad as the truth.”
Hit, hit, hit. Over and over again.
“I know you hate me, and I don’t blame you for it because I did quit. Because I didn’t make Dad stop what he was doing. I didn’t do anything, and I blame myself every damn day for it. I keep asking myself what I could have done different. Should I have begged Jet to stay home? Should I have called Nana and asked her to come get us? Should we have let the state get involved? Should I have taken away his medicines and alcohol?”
Hit, hit, hit. Over and over again.
“And then I ask myself what would have happened if I’d done those things. He wanted to die, Deena. Nothing was going to stop that. The medicine and the alcohol was the slow way to go. Without it, I think he would have just found another way. A gun … a roof, and I just don’t know what I could have done different. Except maybe talk to you more. Open up better.”
I couldn’t hit Eli anymore. Every bit of adrenaline I’d had going into the fight vanished, leaving me drained, my face burning.
Suddenly, I just wanted to fall to my knees and sink into the floor.
“I don’t want to die like he did,” I whispered.
“Then why are you doing this?” Eli’s voice breathed near my ear, his hand hovering over my thigh, his winded breath coming in spurts.
“I don’t know.”
“Cry, Tansy,” Eli begged. “Goddamn it, just cry.”
“No.”
Eli lifted my chin. “I used to think I knew all about tears. Happy tears, sad ones, and heartbreaking ones. All of them. Until you.” He leaned toward me. “I met you, and I’ve come to realize that the worst kind of tears are the ones which never come, the trapped ones. Those tears need a way out, and when you don’t give them that, they find a way to destroy you from the inside out.” His grip on my chin tightened. “Cry, Tansy. Just fucking cry. No one is going to judge you for your tears.”
Looking up, Eli glanced at Deena and then let his gaze hover over the ring. “This is my house. This ring, and I brought you into it. This kind of house was meant for leaving stuff behind. Leave behind the stuff that scares you. Give me that. Your scars, your demons, your silence, your shame, and your strength. Let your deepest regrets disappear here. Let me share them. Demons are a pain in the ass, roof girl. You get so used to them that you don’t realize until it’s too late that they’ve possessed you, and by then, they’ve become the only friends you’ve got. Cry! Just cry!”
And then I was. Just like that. I was sobbing, ugly crying all over the place, tears scouring my cheeks. His words dragged the worst and the best out of me. I’d spilled secrets about myself with him that I hadn’t shared with anyone, and he’d stayed. That was reason enough to cry. My body sagged.
Eli caught me, which made me cry harder because I realized something after hitting Eli over and over again. I didn’t know myself. At all. I was two people. On the one hand, I was this girl hiding behind a sweet personality who wanted people to think she was capable and strong. On the other hand, I was resentful and scared. Of life and love and people. Scared of giving in and giving up. With Dad’s death, the need to stay strong vanished, and I just fell apart.
“I’m weak,” I whispered, laughing bitterly.
“That’s a load of bullshit.” Eli scowled, his eyes locked on my face, his body completely unscathed from my attack. He’d blocked most of my blows.
Outside the ring, my sister clung to the ropes, her eyes wide.
“Tansy—” she began, but I was focused on Eli, on the way he looked at me, on the things I’d revealed about myself. Shameful things.
“What about you?” I asked him.
He seemed to know what I was saying without me having to finish.
“I hate other people, Tansy. You hate yourself. That’s an awful damn big difference.”
My heart felt like a dishrag that had been dunked in dirty dishwater and wrung out repeatedly.
His grip on me tightened. “But you aren’t weak. You were never weak. You just lost who you were and replaced it with someone who needed to make it through something bigger than what she was. That kind of strength astounds me. I couldn’t have done it. I would have folded. I would have walked away angry. You stayed. You fought through, and damn if you’re not allowed a weak moment.”
“There are people out there who have it worse—”
“And?” Eli asked. “Does that mean you aren’t allowed to be not okay for a moment? I’m the king of self-pity. I could stand to pity myself less. You? You could stand to pity yourself more.”
“Tansy,” my sister said, her voice small. She was in the ring with us now, standing beside me. Kneeling, she reached for me, but then let her hand drop. “I don’t hate you. I just don’t understand where everything went wrong. I’m so angry and I don’t understand that either.”
My wet eyes met hers. “It’s okay, Deena. You had every right to be angry.”
She sniffled. “But I don’t want to keep being angry.”
“Maybe,” I said, hiccupping on a sob, “we can find a way to not be angry together.”
She gave me a watery smile.
Eli glanced at her. “Give me a few minutes with Tansy?”
A flash of resentment permeated her gaze. Despite the breakthroughs, despite everything we’d learned about each other, Deena still held on to her anger. It was a crutch I understood. My fear was love. Hers was abandonment. Things between us wouldn’t change overnight.
After a moment, Deena stood, glanced between us, and walked across the gym to head outside.
“Lock the door,” Eli called.
Deena twisted something on the entrance, and then left, the sound of the door slamming shut echoing throughout the building.
Suddenly, Eli’s lips were on mine, his hands pulling at the gloves on my fists, tugging them off one by one without breaking the kiss.
Not expecting it, I stiffened.
His lips were tender, his insistent tongue begging for entry, the movements melting me. Warmth spread through my middle, searing my veins.
My lips parted, allowing him in.
His hands were everywhere, but it wasn’t awkward or off putting. His touch was practiced and efficient.
His touch devastated me, drowning me in sensation, but it was where he touched that destroyed me.
Taking my hand in his, he smoothed out my fingers, gently touching my injured palm.
“Where else?” he asked against my lips.
Our hands entwined, I guided him to my leg, and he helped me push up the hem of my shorts, revealing two cuts, one on my inner thigh, the other on my outer thigh.
“Wars fought alone are lost a lot quicker than those fought with someone else,” Eli told me, lips brushing my forehead.
Leaning away from him, I studied his face. “Why are you doing this?”
He froze. “Tansy—”
My heart thudded, beating so fast it was painful. “You know what? I’m not sure I want to know.”
Eli’s free hand came up, his thumb caressing my cheek. “You’re afraid of me.”
I could deny it, but I didn’t. “Yeah, I am.”
The hand Eli had on my thigh moved, his fingers brushing the cuts. “I asked you to give me the person you are, and you have. I expect the fear.”
My eyes widened. “You think you understand what I’m afraid of?”
“Do you?”
It was a humbling question.
THIRTY-EIGHT
Eli
The moment in the ring was supposed to be about Tansy. It was supposed to get things in the open, tear her walls down so she’d quit harming herself.
Instead, it was our moment. By tearing her walls down, I’d ended up tearing down mine. All of the prejudice I’d had about tears. All these ideas I had about people and women. About life and what it stood for.
When Tansy collapsed, her tears soaking my shirt, she saw a w
eak girl. I’d never seen anyone stronger. She’d stopped crying years ago, not because she couldn’t cry, but because she’d needed the strength to survive. Let’s face it, tears exhausted a person, and there’d been no room for exhaustion in her life at the time.
When I put on a pair of boxing gloves and stepped into a ring, I left the fight there. I came out of it with my usual Eli-ness. My resentment of people, at how awful they could be. At my mother for what she’d done, and Mandy for the type of girl she’d turned out to be, but I still left my ultimate fight in the ring.
Tansy put on a pair of boxing gloves three years ago and never took them off. She never stopped fighting. There was no down time. No getting out of the ring and leaving stuff behind, and now she didn’t know how to quit fighting.
Most eye-opening moment of the day. Drum roll please.
I was fucking falling for Tansy Griffin because of all of it. Because of her strengths and her weaknesses.
In my gut and my heart, Tansy was mine now, and damn if that didn’t tear me a new one. Trust wasn’t something I did easily, but needing her to trust me had caused me to trust her.
Funny how I’d fought so hard not to let people in. Even with Mandy, I’d never really said, “I love you.” She said it, but I always answered with, “Me, too” or “Right back at ya”.
Now, when I realized I wanted to say those words to Tansy, I couldn’t.
Saying them would send her running.
My hand splayed against her leg, my fingers sliding under the hem of her shorts. “What are you really afraid of, Tansy? Falling in love or losing the people you love?”
Please don’t pull away from me, roof girl.
She held perfectly still, her hand resting on my leg. We’d sunk to the floor after she started crying, her body caged by mine.
“I need a minute … I need to take this slow,” she whispered.
I knew by the way she looked at me that she wasn’t talking about the physical stuff. She meant the emotional.
The angry Eli reared his head, sending irritation radiating through me. “Taking it slow isn’t worth shit when you’re never going to move past the beginning.”