Chapter 12 #2
“I couldn't help it. I felt like I deserved to know. Not that any reason would have satisfied me. But that changed my entire life. It tore my family apart, and I wasn’t sure I could move own without there being a reason. Turns out, my mother had been planning to leave him. But so much of his identity was tied up having control over her, that in that moment, the version of himself he thought he was, was ending. I’ll probably never forgive him.
Told him as much. But I don’t know him or care enough about him to hate him.
I just told him to never contact me again, and honestly, I’m better for it.
” It was understandable that she was quiet, but honestly the reason I hated talking about myself.
“What are you gonna psychoanalyze me now?” Trying to find humor where there was none.
“No. Josue that was a sad story. I’m just trying to process it.”
“Yeah, well don’t take all day,” I joked. “Honestly, I’m just wondering how I could just fucking sit there like an idiot while my mom was getting hurt. I wish I had been older, or bigger. Maybe I could have done more—”
“Don’t go blaming yourself. You don’t deserve that,” as she reached for my hand, interlocking her fingers with mine, her long fingernails a huge contrast to the fist that had knocked someone out a week ago.
“Doing that is like me blaming myself for staying in an abusive relationship. It doesn’t help—”
“Well, that’s different.”
“No, it’s not. I used to blame myself for not being lovable enough.
By my mom. Eventually by my grandma, who by the time I turned thirteen, had had enough of raising everyone else’s kids.
Then I blamed myself for looking for love and acceptance in all the wrong places.
Places I only sought because they felt familiar.
I don’t think I’d ever felt a healthy love until—” as she stopped mid-sentence, leaving me in suspense.
“Not even worth bringing up right now,” she finally said. “Just know, I’m as equally fucked up,” she admitted.
“Must be a requirement or something,” I laughed. “Here's to being orphans of the totally fucked up crew.” Again, trying to bring light to where there once was none. When it didn't spread, I unlaced my hand from hers, pinching her chin and making her look in my direction.
“Hey, before you, I’d never been curious about the idea of a woman wanting to fight.
I don’t even like tv that much, because the amount of sexual violence makes me want to vomit.
But you changed my mind. There’s gotta be something special about you to make me do that,” I admitted.
“I’m starting to think all women should know how to fight. Beats the alternative.”
“Well, I don’t think realistically I could win a fight against someone like you—”
“Get the fuck outta here,” I dismissed.
“You’re just really heavy, so the best I know I can do is get you to the floor.”
“Honestly Medina, I’d probably just let you win,” I boldly chanted. That made her curious, as she raised an eyebrow to me and asked, “Why?”
“Girl, who the hell would fight off a pretty woman on top of them. That’s like, every man’s fucking dream. Or perhaps even a woman’s dream too, ‘cuz I’m still not over someone threatening you with a good time to lick you like a tootsie pop—” unable to hide my enthusiasm.
“You're still on that?” finally gathering a smile from her end.
“Oh my god, I know it's wrong. But I keep forgetting you're into women, and I can’t help thinking how fucking strong you gotta be to be between those thighs. I know I don’t always show it, but I’m a fucking dog and you bad as fuck,” I admitted with my whole chest.
“What happened to me being just aight?” she teased.
“?Ay, dios!* A man can only hold out so long. I just deny it because I'm professional.” Thankfully, the confession made her laugh more than make her uncomfortable. “I swear I was gonna fucking lose it when we shared that motel together, and I woke up to you rubbing one out—”
“Oh my god, you were awake for that? I thought you were sound asleep, and I was so anxious, I couldn’t think of anything else to relax me enough to sleep,” she confessed.
“I swear Medina, it’s like you don’t even try. That’s the hardest thing about training you. My mind knows what to do, but it’s like the rest of me doesn’t get the message.”
“I don't know. You don’t always give me that impression ever since you started training me. It’s almost like I became revolting to you overnight—”
“Ma, I’m not blind,” I interrupted. “Out of respect, I’m not gonna ogle and stare at your tits all day, but Jesus.
The things I would’ve done to you the first day we met would’ve had you turnt out.
We wouldn’t have achieved nothing but being dehydrated, so it’s a fucking good thing you had discipline.
Because somebody had to have it for the both of us,” I joked.
“Well, I’m happy that eventually you saw something there.”
“Sierra, I know I didn’t show it in the beginning, but I’m fucking honored you even thought I was worth considering given my record. I know I wouldn’t be an amateur fighter’s first choice.”
“You’ve literally won three titles,” she dismissed.
“But you learn you’re only as good to people as your last fight in this business.
That’s why you gotta enjoy your highs when you’re high.
I’ve had a lot of shots. Three more than some fighters can dream of.
But it’s why I do it. I want to help someone else achieve what I have, for themselves.
Yeah, it’s how you play, but winning’s fucking important too.
Getting that belt is like, the biggest fuck you to everyone who doubted you. ”
“Well, I hope I’m good enough to get you one.”
“You wouldn’t be giving it to me, you’d be giving it to yourself.”
“So, I’d be giving it to us,” she corrected.
“To us? I think I could get used to the sound of that.”
***
When she finally did decide on a drink and plate, it hadn't even mattered, because she'd been halfway into eating my shit. Fucking women.
“See, that’s where you underestimate things, because a lot of women are very male centered, so it’s really hard to get them to validate you outside of sex.
The amount of pillow princesses I encounter makes me want to throw in the towel half the time,” she joked, as our conversation naturally progressed to how she would have spent her night had we not went out.
“Male centered? If anything, it seems like y’all do more to impress other women than men.” I blew out a breath.
“That’s because a compliment from a woman is far more flattering. But seriously, guys get the better end of women—”
“Please,” as I rolled my eyes in the back of my head, leaning back into my chair.
“You guys do! I have literally had women straight up tell me, I like messing with you, but all my emotional labor is reserved for men. And then have the nerve to call me whenever they need a favor!”
“That's fucking crazy, yo. I want to say it's because men just are packing the one thing women don't got. But women aren’t built like men, so they don’t really lead with their dicks.”
“That’s not true. Well, maybe to some extent, but we’re just a lot more careful, whereas men tend not to assess the risk involved, if someone is willing. And women do pack and carry, by the way.”
“Yeah, chicks be buying it, customizing that shit. And we just have to be content with however we came out the box with. You don’t know how many dudes envy the idea of getting to choose your dick size at will,” I joked.
“That honestly scares the shit out of me. You’d be trouble if I brought someone over.
I’d have to take her straight to the room, ‘cuz I’m afraid she’d take one look at you and her whole plan for me would completely redirect. ”
Sierra couldn’t stop laughing, and honestly, it was nice being able to fuck with her, like I’d do any fighter.
Holding my tongue didn’t work well for me, and shooting the shit was my favorite way to bond.
Before now, I admit I handled her with kid gloves, and it was time to start treating her like the winner she was.
“Still. It doesn’t even matter what gender I hook up with, being muscular always works against me.”
“That’s because people are fucking corny. I’ll take being in between boa constrictor thighs any day,” I flirted.
“Guys always say that. Until I tell them I’m a fighter and all of a sudden, it’s a measurement of who can lift more. Men become very insecure for people who claim they like a woman in shape,” she singsonged.
“I’ll play devil’s advocate for a bit. Men get insecure when things they’re good at get infiltrated by women.”
“But why?”
“Because everything y’all do, you fucking excel the shit out of. It’s hard to impress women nowadays.”
“But there are like so many ways to impress a woman that isn’t associated with lifting a weight or fixing a car.”
“Like what?” I interrupted.
“I don’t know? Having a hobby we don’t expect. Or being able to recite a theme song by memory. Being creative. Learning a new skill.”
“So, you mean like chick shit?” I dismissed.
“No, I mean like having an actual personality that has nothing to do with trying to impress someone. Having a favorite bingeable cartoon. Sharing a favorite comfort movie. Something relatable,” she concluded.
“Well, maybe that's why I'm single,” I admitted, taking a minute to calm down from all the laughter shared between us. “Anyway, I hope you're having a good time. You definitely earned it, and I’m sure there’s more to come.”
“It was nice getting to show off my nails before I have to start training again.”
“See, ain’t you glad you came out with me instead of swiping right? Bet you can’t remember the last time you had a good Cuban in your mouth,” I joked.
“Well, if I had swiped right, I’d probably be getting laid by now.”
“Okay, Medina. Keep fucking around, and I won’t set up your next match,” I teased.
“So, you have one?” she wondered.
“Maybe. How do we feel about Kansas City?”
“Would we be driving?”