(With a ‘fuck off!’ CHLOE throws a final big punch, she is exhausted and angry. Her hands on her knees she breathes hard, then walks around breathing and stretching her arms before beginning to work the bag again. She weaves around the other side to become LEN.)
AS LEN: Time! Stop Chloe! That’s enough for today. You need a rest. You’re pushing yourself way too hard. Take a day off and come back tomorrow and we’ll talk about next week.
AS CHLOE: What do you mean talk about it? I’m ready.
AS LEN: You’re done for today. Go home. Now!
AS CHLOE: You can’t tell me what to do, you’re not my dad. Fuck you, I don’t need this, I’ll do it on my own!
(CHLOE rips her gloves off in frustration and shoves everything into her bag. She turns out to us and drops the bag at her feet, to the right of her. She stands still until she has caught her breath and can speak.)
I’ve fucked it right up with Jamie.
(Beat.)
I got back from the gym. And Jamie’s sat on the sofa. That ain’t particularly unusual I know/ but the thing is he had this huge smile on his face. And I’m like, ‘what’s going on?’ And he’s like ‘nothing.’ And I’m like ‘what’s going on?’ And he’s like ‘nothing.’ And I’m like ‘well what you sat there smiling at then, you look like a nutter!’ And his smile gets bigger. And he goes ‘I got you sumfink’. And it’s a pair of trainers. Jamie’s bought me a pair of trainers.
(Beat.)
And I can tell you’re probably sat there thinking, so fucking what? It’s a pair of trainers, what’s the problem? Nobody died. Except that’s exactly the point. Jamie bought me the trainers cus of my dad. See, it was that book Len gave us. About grieving for people. Like, when they die. And it’s a pile of wank it really is. Jamie and me was reading it together one night, and we’re just pissing about laughing at it, cus it’s all like ‘you need to share your feelings.’ And there’s this bit this woman wrote/ about when her husband died/ and she said she felt like she was just floating along through her days without really paying attention to anything/ like she’d lost her feet/ yeah, which I found really fucking funny. Lost her feet. And I’m crackin’ up laughing/ ‘she’s off her nut!’ And Jamie goes, ‘do you ever feel like that?’
(Beat.)
No.
‘If you ever do, just tell me yeah, I’ll sort you out’.
Oh yeah? How you gonna do that then?
‘Oh I’ll think of sumink’.
(Beat.)
So I’m standing there holding these trainers and I dunno what to do. He just looks at me, and I realise I’ve kinda fucked up a nice moment/ like this is meant to be all special and romantic and that.
‘Don’t you wanna try ’em on?’
Nah I say/ in a minute. I wanna walk out but I curl up next to him on the sofa and bury my face in his chest. Lynx Africa fills my nose, I usually love that smell but now I just feel sick. He wraps his arms around me and kisses my head. Then he makes it worse by going/
‘I love you Chloe. And I know you’re sad right now cus of your dad but you won’t be for ever, I promise. I’m gonna look after you.’
And I go to say sumink, you know, witty ’n clever, to lighten the mood and clear the air. But my throat closes up. I like, choke, on my words, and I’m trying my best to spit ’em out but it ain’t happening. And I’m freaking out, thinking about my throat and wondering why I’m not crying and when I zone back in Jamie’s still talking. He’s asking me a load of questions, going on and on and I ain’t been listening when I hear him go/
‘What do you think?’
(Beat.)
Said I don’t mind.
‘What’s wrong darlin’?’ / Nuffink.
‘Do you wanna like/ talk/ about anyfink?’/ Nope.
‘You do love me don’t you Clo?’
(Beat.)
I didn’t say nuffink but he still went mad. Started pacing up and down the room, shouting at me, he got well lairy/ punched the wall/ dick’ead. Said he/ ‘didn’t understand what my Fuckin’ Problem Was, I’m Trying my Best ’ere darlin’, you’re just a selfish Bitch that don’t care ’bout Nuffink but Boxing, didn’t even cry at your Own. Dad’s. Funeral?! You’re just a Selfish Cold-hearted Bitch/’
(Dangerously cold.) / Well why don’t you just fuck off then?!
(Beat.)
And he has.
(Slight pause. CHLOE picks up the bag and looks to the door at the side of her. She turns back to us.)
When the girls asked what happened the only thing I can think to say/ is to tell ’em that he bought me trainers. Yeah, we broke up cus he bought some trainers/ and they’re really nice ones. And people just don’t get it. And I don’t really know why I done it either, cus if I’m honest, it fucking hurts. He done the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me by buying me them trainers. Cus of what they meant. And it was there in front of me, he was offering me this huge thing/ a life with him in the form of some gold ’n’ white Nikes. And I’m thinking, go on Chloe, just put ’em on, go on I fucking dare ya/ you deserve it/ they’re well nice! But I couldn’t do it. Wouldn’t have felt right. Like walking around with your shoes on the wrong feet. Dad always said footwork has to be spot on, you gotta dance Chloe.
(Beat. CHLOE kicks off her boxing boots and shoves them in her bag. She sits on the bench, her head in her hands. Out of the shadows appears LEN who sits next to her.)
As LEN: (Softly.) What you doing ’ere sweetheart?
AS CHLOE: Ain’t got nowhere else to go Len.
AS LEN: What’s happened with Jamie?
AS CHLOE: (She shrugs.) Dad always said I’d be stupid to get involved with boys. Said I’m a fighter, and I don’t have time for all that.
AS LEN: (He sighs.) Listen Chloe I loved your dad, he was my best mate in the world. But sometimes, he was an arsehole. You’ve gotta do what’s right for you love.
AS CHLOE: Yeah but what if I want both?
AS LEN: Then you’ve cut yourself out for a lot of hard work I should imagine. Get some sleep Chloe. I’ll be back at nine, we’ll run through some stuff then, get you ready.
(He starts to leave.)
AS CHLOE: Len. Sorry I’ve been such a twat to you.
AS LEN: (Smiles and shakes his head.) You can make it up to me by winning tomorrow.
(LEN exits. CHLOE watches the space where he was for a while before pulling the trainers out of her bag. She holds them for a moment looking at them. A decision is made. CHLOE places the trainers on the bench and checks the laces on her boots and puts on her gloves. She appears calm and soft, almost younger as though checking her bag before school. She stands, takes a deep breath and steps forward. Lights burst on and the sounds of the boxing hall erupt around her. It is exciting if a little overwhelming. Testosterone and adrenaline fill the air and infect everyone; it’s electric.)
And suddenly I’m here. Months of training, and this is it. Len’s smiling at me and I force one back. I’m so full of nerves I feel sick with ’em. He adjusts my gloves, tells me to box sharp and clear, talking right in my ear, knowing I can’t hardly hear above the crowd. Last minute advice I must have heard at least a thousand times, but right now it’s like I’m hearing it for the first time and I’m trying desperately to stamp it onto my brain and remember every/ single/ word. My legs start bouncing all on their own. Little hops backwards and forwards. I try to shake the tension from my shoulders so my fists can fly. Looking across to the opposite corner I catch her eye. Like me she’s hopping from one foot to the other, practises a jab and then another, thumping her gloves hard together she tries to stare me down. I ignore her, knowing it’s all front. She’s just as scared as me. Her heart is beating loud in her ears like mine. Her stomach crunching jumpy nerves like mine.
The two of us the same. Both bringing our A-Game to this one shot we both got at the title. Suddenly I realise I could win this. I can’t lose. Either way it’s gonna be painful. The only thing I can do is stay calm and focus on her for every second. Her
hands, her feet, her rhythm and beats in between her jabs, the sharp breath that she takes, the tiny movements she makes? All clues to help me through to the end. Len leaves the ring and I’m alone. Just me and her. Then all that is left, is time for one last deep breath, as we’re called by the ref to touch gloves. I wish Dad was here. The bell rings.
(Bell rings. Sound of the crowd, occasionally shouting encouragement. CHLOE speaks the next section in between punches.)
First round is scrappy. Both of us feeling our way. Learning how each other fights. She lands a few stunners. But I’m quick to counter-attack. First round is probably hers.
(Crowd erupts again as CHLOE stands still in her corner with her arms outstretched on the ropes.)
Everyone’s shouting and I can’t hear anything that makes sense. She’s in her corner listening to her coach. Her face, eager for some golden words of wisdom as he demonstrates what he wants her to do. She smiles and nods, and as he pats the side of her head and smiles back, placing his forehead onto hers for a moment, it’s suddenly clear, that he’s her dad. I rise from my corner early, keen to get this shit done, and stand alone waiting for the bell.
(The bell rings and CHLOE explodes into action. The first half of the round is definitely hers; she boxes well with good skill and aggression. She seems to be almost enjoying herself, confident in the knowledge she is doing well. Towards the end of the round she is lax in her defence and is caught by a few shots that she should have easily blocked. The bell rings and frustrated she returns to her corner. Crowd erupts again as CHLOE stands still in her corner with her arms outstretched on the ropes.)
Len’s shouting at me. Something about keeping my guard up and using my uppercut. It’s bullshit he says every time and I snap back ‘I’ve got this!’ Out of the corner of my eye I see a rise from the seats, people standing up to make way for someone. It could be Jamie.
(Beat.) Before I can think it’s ‘TIME!’
(Bell rings. Crowd. She moves up again and boxes, speaking the next section in between jabs and ducks.)
I’m quickly learning her habits. Just like she’s learning mine. The tiny pop-up she does with her shoulder before she throws a right, the shift in weight to duck and dive that leaves her open for just a second if I can only...
(CHLOE manoeuvres herself to the right, stepping inside of her opponent and hitting her with a combination of body shots and uppercuts. She wins a few points but takes a few punches in the process. Her opponent grabs hold of her and they are caught in a clinch before the ref pulls them apart. They dance for a moment both breathing heavily.)
Sucking in air through my nose to clear my head. I widen my eyes and blink hard, sweat is stinging but I keep them on her. I’m tired, but the worst thing I could do is show her that. My heart is pounding so hard it hurts. Sweat running down my arms and legs, my back is dripping. My wrists ache and my hands feel as heavy as bricks but I won’t lower them. My whole body’s screaming for rest, for stillness, but something moves me forward, towards her. She’ll be hurting just as much as me, and even though I know the pain from her punches could knock me out, I move towards them. She moves forward towards me. Both of us not fighting to win anymore, but fighting to stop it, desperate to end this crazy madness we call sport.
(Noise erupts from the crowd as both ladies move towards each other in a tired desperate onslaught of punches. The bell rings and CHLOE returns to her corner.)
Len’s talking non-stop as he pours water over my head. He rubs my face and arms with a towel and rinses my mouth guard. ‘You’re gonna have to step up Chloe if you’re gonna win this.’ I’m breathing hard and trying to calm down. ‘Who’s winning on points?’ Len glares at me hard, suddenly silent and I know the answer. Dad always said you can never trust the judges. A knock-out is the only way to win this.
(Beat.)
I rise from the stool and step forward for the final round. She’s already standing, rocking from one foot to the other pumping herself up. We wait for the bell.
(The bell rings and both ladies launch themselves forward with new-found strength and energy. CHLOE lands a few before being forced to block four shots moving backwards quickly. She tries to attack back and is hit square on the jaw. CHLOE drops to one knee.)
Hot pain sharp like a knife cracks through my jaw and echoes up through my skull. I bite down hard and blink back tears, my eyes are blurred and my legs feel so fucking heavy. It’s like someone’s pushing me downwards. I have to get up. The ref is counting in my face. Four! Five! Six! I push hard and force myself back up, a sudden rush of cool air leaves me dazed for a second. Shaking my legs to get the blood flowing, I nod at the ref who’s holding my gloves and looking into my eyes. Sucking in air through my nose I nod, I’m fine, I’m fine. I can feel her pacing up and down, pumped up and ready to go. I’m fine. The ref nods and I turn towards her.
(Noise of the crowd. CHLOE throws a few feeble shots, but her opponent pumped up on the confidence she has knocked CHLOE down is suddenly fierce and powerful. CHLOE is forced backwards again, she blocks her face as she is hit by a fierce barrage of punches caught on the ropes. She is in trouble.)
Fuck. I’m fucked. What do I do? Dad!
(Everyone is screaming and shouting. CHLOE still caught on the ropes, her opponent shows no sign of letting up.)
‘Keep your head down Chloe and look for an opening. Now Chloe! Move your feet. Move, move!’
(Silence. CHLOE finds a way out; one hard jab that seems to take all of her energy and a double left hook; dancing round her opponent she is released from the corner, almost swapping places. CHLOE hits her with a harsh combination; left jab, straight right, left uppercut, left hook and a big right. She knocks her opponent down. There is a beat before the crowd erupts. CHLOE backs to her corner watching the ref count to ten. She has won. She celebrates, lifted up by LEN, her hands in the air. The celebration ends with her standing centre stage, tears in her eyes, smiling.
As the noise of the crowd dies down her smile fades slightly. She is alone and winning is suddenly bittersweet. CHLOE sits on the bench, her arms wrapped around herself, cold from sweat and full of conflicting emotions. Long pause. She pulls herself together and takes off her boots and hand wraps, pulling on some warm trackies and a jumper. She lifts the trainers from the bench and holds them in her hand for a moment.)
Apparently he did watch. Snuck in the back. Didn’t wanna distract me but/ wouldn’t have missed it for the world.
(Beat. CHLOE puts on the trainers and stands in them, testing how they feel for a moment.)
It ain’t gonna be easy but I’m not stranger to hard work. ‘You’ve got to fight for the things you love Chloe’. Yes Dad.
(Beat.)
When people ask me what my dad was like I don’t really know what to say, do you know what I mean? I just wanna tell ’em to fuck off. I mean what was your dad like? Oh yeah? Good for you. My dad was just my dad you know, nothing special. I mean yeah, he was special to me/ but then I’m bound to say that, ain’t I?
WWW.OBERONBOOKS.COM
Follow us on www.twitter.com/@oberonbooks
& www.facebook.com/oberonbook
Bitch Boxer Page 3