Page 25 of The Second Kiss
I practice a few times, then he shows me how to put pressure on fingers and toes. I cringe when he explains, “Anything that blinds your attacker with pain long enough so you can get away.”
As I practice the moves, ladies arrive—more than I expected. “Pretty big class,” I say to Jacob.
“A lot of these women have husbands who are deployed,” he says. “I think being alone makes them feel more vulnerable.”
“How long are their husbands gone?” I ask.
“Usually a year, sometimes longer,” he answers.
“That long?”
He nods and moves to the center of the room. He directs the class into a big circle with him in the middle.
“I’m not going to kid you,” he says, looking serious. “A guy who attacks you is going to be bigger and stronger than you are, that’s just a fact of nature. You are not going to out-fight him. Lucky for you, God gave women the brains.” He grins and the class laughs. “The trick is to outsmart him.”
While he talks, I take in the group. Most are just a few years older than me. A couple are as old as my mom. A handful are older. I try to imagine what it would be like to be a military wife and have my husband—I glance up at Jacob—gone for a year or longer, maybe even fighting a war. I clear that thought from my head and try to focus on what he’s saying. “Your best defense is a good offense. Stay away from dark places. Pay attention to your surroundings. Stay with a buddy. And most importantly,” his eyes bore into mine, “don’t ever let someone put you in a situation that you can’t control.”
I look away from his gaze and think about Brad and the party. I wonder what Jacob would have to say about getting myself into that situation.
Jacob calls me to the middle, and I play practice dummy while he shows the ladies the moves he showed me before. Then he divides them into twos and we go around and watch them practice the moves on each other.
When everyone has practiced a few times he calls them back together. “I want you ladies to work on getting mad and hitting something. Be aggressive. Yell. One of the best ways to get into a bad situation is by being nice. The bad guy is looking for an easy target. Don’t be that easy target.”
He hands out boxing gloves and padded shields and they break up into pairs again. I’m helping an older lady with white-blonde hair named Ellen, but my focus is across the gym. Jacob is demonstrating a move to a young, pretty woman with short brown hair. He’s standing behind her with his arms around her back, directing her fists.
“Like this?” Ellen says. She punches forward with less power than you would need to swat a fly.
I turn back to her, “A little more power. Go up on your toes. Use your hips and your thighs to get more power behind the punch.” I show her a couple of jabs, and then she tries again. “Good,” I say, but I keep watching Jacob with the other woman. “Now hit the shield as hard as you can.”
She hits a couple of times, still without much power. “You need to get mad,” I say. I’m getting mad watching Jacob and that woman, even though I know I shouldn’t. It’s not like I have any claim on him. Their laughter filters across the room. I turn my head to see what’s so funny.
The shield is down just for a second. Just long enough for Ellen to get in one punch, probably harder than she’s ever hit anything in her life. Her fist connects with my mouth. My snaps and I stumble backward.
“Oh, no, oh no. Oh, I’m so sorry,” Ellen is really upset. I want to tell her it's okay. That it was my fault, but my mouth is throbbing and I taste blood. “You’re bleeding!” Ellen says.
I back away, covering my mouth. I’m trying to keep from making a scene, but the other sparring partners notice the fuss Ellen is making. They come over to see what’s going on.
Jacob lets go of the pretty brunette and walks over. “What happened?”
“I’m so sorry,” Ellen says again. “I hit her, by accident. I didn’t mean to. I’m so sorry.”
“Let me see,” Jacob reaches for my hand that’s covering my lip.
“No. I’m okay.” My bottom lip throbs and my mouth tastes like copper. “I just need a bathroom.”
“I’ll take you there,” Ellen wraps her arm around my waist. “Could someone find her some ice?”
Ellen guides me out of the gym and into the bathroom. I lean over and spit blood into the sink. She keeps her arm around me and keeps repeating that she’s sorry. I examine my fat lip in the mirror while she wets down a paper towel and tells me to hold it against my lip. “I don’t know what happened. I didn’t mean to hit you so hard.”
“It was my fault.” I say behind the paper towel. “I let my guard down. That was a good hit.”
She rubs her fist and sort of smiles. “It hurt my knuckles.”
Another lady comes to the door. “No ice, but I found a popsicle in the freezer. That’s what I give my kids when they bang their lips.”
“Thanks.” I walk to the door, take the popsicle, and try to smile through my puffy bottom lip. “Grape, my favorite.”
Both women are hovering. I take a step back to get some air. “You can go back to class. I’ll work on this popsicle and then I’ll come back. I’m okay, really.”
