Is my nose bleeding?

I’m sweating. The sting of my own body’s salt is in my eyes and my mouth and – shit, in the sole of my left foot? Did that fucking callus rupture again? No time to check. Someone is yelling. A male voice: Harder, MB, harder! So I hit harder, chasing the wet smack of my gloves against stiff leather. My shoulder hurts, like there’s an empty space inside somewhere there shouldn’t be. It’s the left one – no, that’s my right. Christ. Did I hyperextend it? Or is that just how many crosses I’ve thrown in the past seven minutes? Harder MB! A grunt rips through my throat and out from between my snarling lips as I dig 

Is my nose bleeding?

I took a walk this morning just to go look through the gate at the gym how long has it been closed seven weeks today damn yeah do you know when they’ll reopen I don’t know, I guess gyms are considered phase one business but who knows what that means yeah anything could happen yeah anything could happen.

I hit again, and again. She shows me the jab, cross, hook, right kick. Right kick again. Again. My hip creaks. It didn’t always do that. Again! Harder! It’s her voice this time. I glance up from the beads of liquid on her clavicle to her liquid-bright eyes. She’s smiling at me. The grim warrior’s smile. No teeth. I smile back. I hit harder.

I’ve probably lost some weight well that’s a good thing isn’t it no it’s not I’m losing muscle but you look great I don’t care how I look I just want to be strong well don’t worry things will be back to normal soon enough not soon enough my cardio is

Someone yells time! My hands drop automatically, then pop up again, over my head, reaching to give my lungs more space to expand. The hot sick feeling rises in my chest and I think about puking, but I swallow instead. Nice, MB, hell yeah. I smile at her, with teeth this time. Heat rolls off of my face and chest. Sweat in my eyes. Hair is soaked. Shirt clings to my back. I breathe, and the air is the mist off a thick jungle of bodies, packed onto the tiny padded landscape, hitting and sweating and hitting. Okay, thirty seconds! Last round! Shit, one more round to go. You got this, MB, let’s go! 

Is my nose bleeding?

Shoulders forward, chin down, body hollow, see? Feet shoulder-width. Good. That’s a Muay Thai stance. Relaxed. Almost lazy. Hands up here. Eyes on the center of your opponent’s body. Good. Now let’s work the jab.

I see you grinding, MB! I smile, but I don’t answer. He doesn’t need an answer. I’m working jabs on the bag. It’s early. The sun is just rising outside. It’s quiet out there, the cool morning air still smelling of darkness. Inside, the mats stink like rubber and disinfectant and still underneath that like sweet heavy sweat. I don’t mind the smell. My left shoulder hurts today. It’s a good pain, though. I keep jabbing. Straight out from the shoulder. High. Low. Step in. Step out. Jab, jab, jab

Time! The pads in front of my lower again. I resist the urge to bend over. Reach up, free up the lungs, there we go. It’s sparring next. Jesus Christ, what am I doing here. Two years ago I didn’t even know what Muay Thai was. This is insane. I fucking love this. 

Think about this. Instead of focusing on swinging your leg here, focus on pulling your shoulder back here. You see? Switch your lead.  If this shoulder is pulling back, it will naturally swing your opposite leg around, right? Boom! See? One long line from your toes to your head. So much more power that way. Show me. Boom! Yes! Again! Boom! Yes, that’s it that’s it again! 

He nods at me. Okay MB, you and X. My heartbeat stutters, a sharp edge in my chest. Fuck. He knows I’m scared of her. That’s why he’s doing this. I look him in the face. His eyes have that blank dark curtain across them that they get when he’s talking to a fighter. Shark eyes. Okay, fine. You think I’m fucking scared of her? Fine! I grind my teeth into my mouthguard and climb into 

Is my nose bleeding?

I haven’t been able to use my right kick in weeks. There’s a deep bruise in my shin that won’t go away. It’s three different shades of brown and lumpy beneath the skin, and so, so tender. It’s probably a microfracture. His giant, flailing knee versus my skinny shin, no contest. It hurts like a sonofabitch. My left kick is getting fire, though. I tease him for hurting me. Noob. Clumsy. But I like him. 

What did your coworkers say? Oh, they know what I get up to. They don’t think your boyfriend’s beating you? No. They think it’s cool. The head of post walked past my desk, did a double take, and said “that’s gangster.” I’ve never had a black eye before. 

Is my nose bleeding?

I’m exhausted. He says, I’ll go light. He says, I’ll just work defense. I say, okay. I don’t want to be here. I know this guy could kill me if he wanted to – like, he could literally beat me to death. But okay. Power through, bitch. Then, the skwish-skwish of feet shuffling on thick mats – and he kicks me flush in the fucking face. His shin meets my orbital bone, and I drop. I’m on my knees. Forehead on the mat. I think maybe my eye is gone. Pain, pain, pain. I blink – oh good, my eye isn’t gone. Good. Am I crying? I don’t want to cry. I look up. He’s on his knees, too. He’s making that face with the eyes all squinted and the bottom lip tucked in. A ooh yeah that hurt huh face. Sorry, sorry. Oh, you’re sorry are you? I’m mad. I’m mad at him. If I were capable... but I’m not capable. I should have had my right hand up higher. 

into the ring. I take a deep breath through my nose. I look at her. She’s smaller than me. She’s better than me. Faster. Meaner. Fuck this. This is insane. I put up my hands. The bell rings. 

Is my nose bleeding?

My head pops back. Did she just teep me in the face? My nose stings and my eyes water. I’m hot all over but now my nose is the epicenter. Is there more than one liquid dripping down my face? Can I taste iron? Is my nose bleeding? A moment – so short it might not have been at all – of rushing panic. Then I am moving forward. I am deciding I don’t give a fuck if my nose is bleeding. One two. Right cross, left kick. Slip left and counter. Lateral movement, MB. Stay light on your feet, MB. 

My nose is bleeding. The bell rings. The round ends. He calls me to the corner. I look him in the face. The curtain is still over his eyes, but I can see he’ll probably raise it for me if I ask him to. I don’t ask. You okay? He beckons me forward. He grabs the front of my shirt, folding it over his hand and raising it to pinch the blood from my nose. He’s done this a thousand times. This is my first time. I’m fine. You sure? Yeah. Okay.

My nose is still fucking bleeding. She tries to get me in the face again, but I’m ready now. If this were a fight I’d be losing but I don’t care. There’s blood still dripping slow and slick down my face and I don’t care. I know I’m going to puke soon and I don’t care. I can’t breathe through my nose and I don’t fucking care. 

But you kept going didn’t you no dude he dropped me damn that looks like it’s gonna leave a helluva mark he’s supposed to be so skilled what the fuck is he doing trying to knock my head off aw he didn’t mean it I know I know but that doesn’t mean I can’t be pissed

My nose is bleeding. I don’t know what round this is. Another woman is in front of me. Still smaller than me. Still stronger. I don’t care. I’m fucking exhausted. Someone is telling me to get light on my feet. I try. I think I succeed, a little. I’m not throwing much, but I’m still moving. It’s just that I know I’m about to puke and I’m not sure what to do with it. Oh fuck. I vomit in my mouth. No! I swallow it. I’ve never done that before. I throw a jab, a cross. So slow, so fucking slow. She saw me retch. She’s backing away. No, I’m still here! My insides twist again and warm sour liquid fills my mouth No! I swallow again. Jesus Christ this is fucking insane I love this so much. She’s holding out her hands now, offering to let me spit out my mouthguard. Bitch, no! No no no! I throw the jab cross again. She puts up her hands. Fuck me I’m moving in slow motion. Someone is yelling at me. Oh, fuck. I puke again. I can’t hold it this time. I turn to the side and my guts splatter onto the ring floor. Someone scampers away from the ringside. Shit, did I hit him? Sorry dude, splash zone!

I think I lost my mouthguard. I raise my hands anyway. I turn toward her anyway. Her hands are down again. She knows I’m done. I don’t know I’m done. I plow my arm through air that has turned into wet sand and throw 

Time! Mary Beth, you’re done!

I’m done. My hands drop. Holy shit. 

He nods at me from the corner – the skin at the corners of his eyes is crinkled, so I know he’s smiling. I tumble out of the ring and peel off a glove. Someone hands me a handful of paper towels for my face. Someone else smiles and calls me nasty. The gym owner appears, grinning. She puts a hand on my shoulder. She says something about fear, or hardship, or willpower – she’s praising me, and I am elated. 

 I am elated. 

My nose is bleeding, and I am elated. My mouth tastes like stomach acid, and I am elated. 

I pass the test. I am an advanced Muay Thai student. This is insane. I fucking love this.