text: Jamie slithered her hands inside the cushioned gloves, wondering how many other people had stuffed their sweaty fists inside these faded leather mitts. As she flexed her fingers, she felt the heft of the boxing gloves and stretchy tautness of the wraps wound in intricate loops around her knuckles and wrists. She took a deep breath, trying to calm the butterflies fluttering in her stomach, but the lycra workout top she’d donned for this evening suddenly felt as tight as a straight jacket. Her underarms wept with perspiration. She should have peed. Jamie’s pulse quickened when Shannon slapped on her own gloves and tightened her wrist straps like she was donning battle armor. Attired in black compression shorts and a red racer-back top, her instructor looked like a superhero ready to kick some serious ass. The look was complete when she stepped toward the heavy bag and lifted her fists to her chin. Jamie had just met Shannon a few days ago while jogging through the neighborhood and nearly tripped over her as she hauled a sandwich board sign onto the sidewalk. Chagrined, she stopped to apologize but couldn’t hear her own words over the Beyonce anthem blasting through her earbuds. The broad-shouldered, blonde-haired woman just smiled and gestured toward the placard. The Upper Cut New Member Special “We’re running a special for new members. Think you might be interested in kickboxing?” Absolutely not. Her older brother Justin had loved televised MMA fights when they were teenagers. Once, when she was watching American Idol in the family den, he snatched the remote control from her hand, flipping the channel from a glittery Jordin Sparks delivering a glorious solo performance to a brutal cage match between two bare-chested men roiled in violent combat on a blood-spattered canvas. “Um, I don’t know. I’m not into... uh... contact sports.” Shannon laughed. Her gray-blue eyes possessed a spritely quality and her face radiated with a healthy glow. “Don’t worry, no one’s gonna punch you, but you’ll get a great workout.” Intrigued, Jamie had shown up for tonight’s kickboxing class. “Ok, so this is a jab.” Shannon threw a left-handed punch at the bag. A kaleidoscopic swirl of tattoos cascaded down her sinewy arm. "And this is a cross." She pivoted and struck the bag with a hard right. “You wanna focus on striking the bag with your first two knuckles.” She pounded the bag with four rapid punches, causing it to sway jerkily from its metal chain. “Now, you try.” As soon as Jamie positioned herself in front of the bag, Shannon’s simple instructions evaporated from her mind. When she angled her elbows and raised her mitts, a loose strand of hair tickled her forehead. She reached up to brush it away but ended up thumping her face with the back of her glove. For a moment, she was ten years old again and Justin was laughing at her after he’d bounced a Nerf football off her forehead. Jamie lowered her gloves and swallowed hard, bracing for a stifled snicker or teasing comment. “Oh, I’ve done that too,” Shannon said. Jamie took a deep breath then pitched her shoulders back. She positioned herself in accordance with Shannon’s instructions, then threw a jab, feeling the knuckles of her left hand press into the thick cushioning of her glove. It was a weak punch, though, not even strong enough to cause the bag to budge. Shannon stepped in front of her and corrected her stance, nudging her right hip into the proper position. Jamie wobbled and took a step back. "You wanna put your weight into it." Shannon threw a set of jabs at the heavy bag, each strike landing like a jackhammer. A frenetic Lady Gaga song reverberated through the overhead speakers, the thumping bass matching the rhythm of Shannon’s punches. Pow. Pow. Pow. The bag bobbed and swayed. Jamie lifted her gloves to her chin and reset in her fighter’s stance. This time, she drove her fist into the bag and it landed with a satisfying thud. “That’s it! Hit it again!” Shannon urged. Jamie cocked her fist under her chin. It felt strangely satisfying, like some kind of primal release when she smacked her gloved fist into the bag. She reset and threw a series of jabs, aiming for the wrinkled leather crease just below the gym logo. “Now, throw a cross with your right hand.” Imagining herself as some kind of superheroine about to deliver the knockout blow to her arch nemesis, Jamie drew her right elbow behind her ear like she was pulling back the elastic strap on a slingshot. “That’s a good way to hurt your shoulder,” Shannon cautioned. “Keep your elbows tucked in. The power comes from your lower body.” Jamie lowered her gloves and repositioned her feet. So much for Supergirl. She tucked her elbows by her ribcage, then fired her right fist at the bag. It landed with a satisfying thwack. “Again,” Shannon instructed. Jamie threw another punch, pivoting on her back foot and turning her hips as she extended her right arm. She smiled when the bag swayed. “Now put the combination together like this.” Shannon’s muscular arms churned like pistons as she hammered the bag with alternating fists. Jamie watched, mesmerized by the blonde-haired woman who pummeled the bag like some kind of Valkyrie warrior. When it was Jamie’s turn, she attempted to emulate Shannon’s rhythmic display of power, but her punches were slow and awkward. Just like her softball throw when she played right field for one long season in ninth grade. “You throw like a girl,” Justin teased after her first game. She’d misplayed a fly ball in the outfield then shorted the throw to second base. Shannon stepped in front of her again. “Don’t overthink it. Just let your body move naturally.” Jamie felt a blush rise in her cheeks and tried to hide it by lifting her gloves to either side of her face. She stepped up to the bag, then threw a jab with her left hand, quickly followed by a cross with her right. “Nice,” Shannon said with a grin. “Now let's try a hook.” Jamie furrowed her brow, not entirely sure what a hook was or how to execute one. Shannon demonstrated the punch with a smooth, fluid motion that made it look effortless. “Give it a shot,” Shannon said, stepping back to give her some space. Jamie took a deep breath, angled her left elbow, and threw a hook, feeling the power of the punch as it connected with the bag. "Good job!" Shannon praised her. "Now let's try it again but put some more weight into it this time." Jamie nodded, determined to do better. She set herself up in front of the bag once more, and this time put all the force she could muster into her punches. Sweat trickled down her forehead as she attacked the bag with a furious left-right-left flurry. “That’s it!” Shannon encouraged. “Keep going.” Jamie threw another combination, feeling more confident with each punch. She was no longer thinking about each individual movement but allowing her body to move more naturally. For someone who had never thrown a punch in her life, she was enjoying the satisfying thuds that her glove made with each hit. “That was great,” Shannon said, tapping her cherry-red gloves against Jamie’s faded black mitts. As Jamie dropped her shoulders and shook out her arms, she caught a glimpse of herself in the reflection of the window. Her face looked as pink as a pencil eraser and unruly strands of dark brown hair curled against her forehead. Her pale, willowy arms hung by her sides, a startling contrast to Shannon’s taut musculature and colorfully inked flesh. “Alright everyone, let’s get started!” Shannon shouted, clapping her hands together. As the class of eager students gathered around their instructor, Jamie felt a nervous twinge. They must have been watching her solo workout with Shannon. What were they thinking? That she showed promise? That she looked pathetic? She’d never considered herself much of an athlete. That was her brother’s domain. "Let's welcome Jamie, our newest student, to The Upper Cut!" said Shannon as she wrapped her arm around her shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze. The students clapped and offered Jamie high-fives, their boisterous welcome boosting her confidence. She also enjoyed the comforting sensation of Shannon's strong arm enveloping her upper body. "We're going to start with some basic drills," Shannon explained, her voice carrying easily over the chatter in the gym. "First up, I want you all to practice your jabs. Remember, keep your elbows tucked in." Jamie stepped forward and lifted her gloves, focusing on the bag in front of her. She drew her arm back, then threw a quick jab, feeling the satisfying thud as her glove made contact with the bag. As she continued to practice, she felt more at ease. The nervousness that had gripped her earlier was fading away, replaced by a growing sense of confidence. Shannon moved among the students, correcting their form and offering encouragement. As the class went on, Jamie stole glances at her instructor, hoping she would return to her side and give her more pointers. When Shannon stopped at the bag beside Jamie's to adjust the woman's form, Jamie punched her own bag with renewed energy. “All right, everyone,” Shannon called out to the class. “Time for partner drills.” Jamie's heart rate spiked. It was one thing to practice her combinations on the bag. Now, she needed to do it with another human being. As the other students began to pair up, Jamie scanned the room for a partner. It was like she was back in middle school gym class, waiting anxiously to be picked for a team. Please don’t let me be the last one. She could hear her brother snickering. "Need a partner?" Jamie turned to face a middle-aged Hispanic woman with the taut physique of a gymnast. "Yeah," answered Jamie, shifting her weight from foot to foot. As Shannon called out the drill, Jamie and her partner took turns throwing punches and blocking them. At first, Jamie was hesitant, worried that she might hit her partner too hard or miss entirely. But as they continued, Jamie's confidence grew. She found that she could trust her partner, and that they moved together with a certain grace and synchronicity. At the end of class, she peeled off her gloves and grabbed her water bottle, feeling both exhausted and exhilarated. As she gulped down the last ounce of water in the plastic container, Shannon strode across the gym with a gleeful smile. "You did great today!” She patted Jamie on the back, making her heart skip a beat. "Thanks. I really enjoyed it.” "I knew you would! Will I see you at my next class on Thursday?" Jamie pretended to swig more water from her empty bottle, trying to buy some time as she considered how to respond to Shannon's invitation. She'd considered herself fit, but tonight’s class had kicked her ass. An hour later, she clomped up the three flights of stairs to her condo, feeling like cinderblocks were attached to the soles of her feet. She was going to take a hot shower then chill with a cold glass of wine, but as she dropped her gym bag on the floor, her cell phone buzzed. Justin had called and left a message. What did he want this time? She took a deep breath, steeling herself to hear her brother's voice, but the level of anger in his terse message unsettled her: Call me back when you get this message. I need to speak to you. Jamie had left small-town life in Sidney, Illinois a decade year ago when she accepted a full academic scholarship to attend the University of Chicago. There was only reason that she ever returned to Sidney. To see her precocious niece Katie and check in with her sister-in-law Laura, who was like the sister she’d never had growing up. "Hey, what's going on?" Jamie asked, trying to sound calm. "It's Laura," Justin said, his voice choking with rage. "She's been hit by a car." "Oh, my god!" Jamie felt like she’d been punched in the stomach. "I'm at the hospital right now. They've got her in intensive care." A wave of fear and anxiety rushed over her again as she remembered her little niece. "Was Katie with her?" "No," Justin growled. Jamie exhaled and sank back into the sofa cushion as she realized Katie had not been injured. "What happened?" Justin breathed noisily into the phone. "I'd dropped her and Katie off at the soccer field on my way to work. Apparently Laura decided to walk over to Starbucks to get some coffee while Katie was warming up for the game. That's when some asshole ran the red light and slammed right into her. I will sue his ass!" Jamie could hardly believe what she was hearing. Her mind was spinning as she tried to process the news. "Is Laura gonna be okay?" "They don't know yet." Muffled voices and intermittent beeping competed with Justin's response. What was Laura going through right now? Was she conscious? Was she in pain? Laura had developed an Oxy addiction after being prescribed the drug for her recurrent back pain. While she'd been in recovery for several years now, Jamie worried that her sister-in-law would again receive heavy-duty opioids for her pain. "She's in rough shape. They had to operate on her leg, and she has a few broken ribs. Gonna be in the hospital for a while.” Justin sighed. “And you know what that means." Jamie felt her heart sink. "What?" "The medical bills are gonna cost me a fortune!" Was her brother really more concerned about his bank account that his injured wife? Jamie's stomach churned. Her brother was too proud to ask for financial assistance, but he would find other ways to extract what he needed from her. She pushed the thought aside, reminding herself that this wasn't about money. It wasn't even about Justin. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” "The doctor's calling me," Justin grumbled. "I gotta go." “Wait!" Jamie called out, a familiar dread nestling into the pit of her stomach, but the line was already dead.