33.
The kids were in karate class together, so I used the opportunity to work-out at Jacky's. It was late evening, and the sun had set. I was feeling strong and healthy. At the moment, Jacky was taping my fists. We were both silent. I think he sensed I was in one of my moods. Occasionally, he would look up into my face, then quickly avert his eyes.
"I'm not going to bite you, Jacky."
"You think I'm afraid of you?" he asked. "Well, I am."
I rubbed his shining head with my already-taped right hand.
In fact, I was having a hard time letting go of my conversation with Mary Lou. I was trying to comprehend the fact that she had been secretly speaking to Danny. Discussing what an unfit mother I was.
"Whatever's eating at you," said Jacky, "take it out on the punching bag. That's my motto."
And so I did. Pummeling the thing until I was dripping sweat. We worked in three minute drills, with Jacky screaming at me to keep my hands up. I would finish each round in a flurry of punches, rapid-fire body shots to the punching bag. During one of these flurries, I caught Jacky's expression as he steadied the punching bag. It was one of profound pain. The punches were reverberating through the bag and into him. The Irishman was taking a beating, but he seemed to love it.
At the end of the sixth round I dropped my hands to my side. The gloves felt like bags of cement. Jacky staggered away to get some water.
I leaned my forehead against the punching bag. I was still thinking about Danny. It seemed to me that he was building a case against me. Of course, building a case against me couldn't be easier. Hell, in my current condition, even I knew I was an unfit mother. But I was doing my best and I loved my kids with all my heart. You could never replace that. Ever.
At the far end of the gym, I noticed a tall boxer working out with one of Jacky's long-time trainers. The boxer was young and blond and very muscular. His punches were rapid and precision-like. His muscles stood out on his hot skin.
Jacky came back, holding a little Dixie cup full of water. The cup was shaking in his hands.
"I've been meaning to talk to you about those Dixie cups," I said. "We pay good money to join your gym, and the best you can give us are these paper thimbles in return?"
"Ah, lass, you pay for the atmosphere."
I nodded toward the young, hotshot boxer. "Who's that?"
"That's Desmond Beacon. A boxing champion in the Marines, went undefeated. He's turning pro."
"I want to box him."
Jacky's eyes brightened briefly
17
