Again.”
She struck it, this time following a
right punch with a second one from her left hand.
“How’s that feel?”
Bess cracked a grin. “Actually really
good.”
Tyler smiled back. “There’s something
kind of gratifying about beating the crap out of something, isn’t there?”
The smile on Bess’s face vanished, the
words somehow striking her differently from how he intended them. She had once
been the punching bag at the end of a rough day. She turned back to the bag,
hoping he didn’t notice her sudden frown.
“What women should always learn to do is
kick, though,” he continued.
“Kick?”
“Your strongest muscles are in your legs.
If some guy is attacking you, kicking can be more effective than punching. Kick
him in the balls. Just don’t practice it on me, okay?”
She laughed.
“And if you are going to punch, go for
the Adam’s apple. Poke his eyes out. And scream like hell. Women don’t scream
enough. Girls grow up being told to keep quiet. It starts to become part of
them. You should never lose the ability to scream.” Cringing, he let out a low
snicker. “Sorry. Can you tell I’ve given this lecture to my sister once or twice
over the years? I’ll be hell to have around when Abby gets to be a little
older. I’ll turn her into Ronda Rousey.”
Bess couldn’t help feeling gratified by
the idea that he’d still be around then. “Who’s Ronda Rousey?” she asked,
eyeing the bag again.
“Best female fighter out there, in my
opinion. Now, attack that bag, champ.”
Bess pictured Dan’s face eye-level on the
bag. She punched it first, then kicked. The first kick was timid, just to see
what it would feel like. The second, more powerful, once in imaginary Dan’s
groin, and once in the ribs, for old time’s sake, remembering the time he had
kicked her in the ribs on the bathroom floor. “How’s that feel, asshole?” A
voice inside her demanded, and then she blushed when she realized she had said
it out loud.
Tyler laughed. “I think the bag would say
you pack a hell of a kick.”
Mortified, Bess took off the gloves. “Sorry.
Got a little too carried away. I’ll have to only do this when Abby’s asleep,
huh?”
“Keep going. It’s good for you. If you
want to build those leg muscles some more, try the treadmill and put it on
incline. Just don’t push it too hard. I know CPR, but I’d like to avoid needing
to use it on you.”
Fighting the blush that was creeping up
her neck, she tried to erase from her mind the titillating image of Tyler
giving her mouth-to-mouth. She pulled the gloves off. “Thanks. I might give it
a try.”
“Good. Nothing better for Abigail than
having a strong mama.”
Her brow furrowed and she quickly looked
away. “I am a strong mama,” she muttered, stalking quickly out of the room. Great,
another man who thinks I’m a weak victim. Just what I needed.
He grabbed her arm to stop her. “Wait,
Bess. I didn’t mean it that way. You are strong. You’re right. You’re raising
your kid on your own. You’re more determined and selfless than any 24-year old
I’ve ever known.”
Bess cursed the tears welling in her
eyes.
“Hey,” he said softly, brushing a stray
tear from cheek. “You are strong,” he said again. “You’re a survivor.”
How did he know that? How had he figured that out without even
knowing what she had survived?
With his finger, he lifted her chin a
little. “I’m just overly protective. First time I got into a fight at school,
it was over my sister, you know.”
“Your sister was younger than you?” Bess
asked.
“Older, actually. She got pregnant in
high school. Some kid in my kindergarten class made some comment about it and
they couldn’t pull me off him fast enough. It pretty much stayed that way till
I graduated from high school.”
Curious, Bess cocked her head to the
side. “Did she keep the baby?”
“Oh, yeah. Mom pretty much raised my
niece like her own so that my sister could stay in
She struck it, this time following a
right punch with a second one from her left hand.
“How’s that feel?”
Bess cracked a grin. “Actually really
good.”
Tyler smiled back. “There’s something
kind of gratifying about beating the crap out of something, isn’t there?”
The smile on Bess’s face vanished, the
words somehow striking her differently from how he intended them. She had once
been the punching bag at the end of a rough day. She turned back to the bag,
hoping he didn’t notice her sudden frown.
“What women should always learn to do is
kick, though,” he continued.
“Kick?”
“Your strongest muscles are in your legs.
If some guy is attacking you, kicking can be more effective than punching. Kick
him in the balls. Just don’t practice it on me, okay?”
She laughed.
“And if you are going to punch, go for
the Adam’s apple. Poke his eyes out. And scream like hell. Women don’t scream
enough. Girls grow up being told to keep quiet. It starts to become part of
them. You should never lose the ability to scream.” Cringing, he let out a low
snicker. “Sorry. Can you tell I’ve given this lecture to my sister once or twice
over the years? I’ll be hell to have around when Abby gets to be a little
older. I’ll turn her into Ronda Rousey.”
Bess couldn’t help feeling gratified by
the idea that he’d still be around then. “Who’s Ronda Rousey?” she asked,
eyeing the bag again.
“Best female fighter out there, in my
opinion. Now, attack that bag, champ.”
Bess pictured Dan’s face eye-level on the
bag. She punched it first, then kicked. The first kick was timid, just to see
what it would feel like. The second, more powerful, once in imaginary Dan’s
groin, and once in the ribs, for old time’s sake, remembering the time he had
kicked her in the ribs on the bathroom floor. “How’s that feel, asshole?” A
voice inside her demanded, and then she blushed when she realized she had said
it out loud.
Tyler laughed. “I think the bag would say
you pack a hell of a kick.”
Mortified, Bess took off the gloves. “Sorry.
Got a little too carried away. I’ll have to only do this when Abby’s asleep,
huh?”
“Keep going. It’s good for you. If you
want to build those leg muscles some more, try the treadmill and put it on
incline. Just don’t push it too hard. I know CPR, but I’d like to avoid needing
to use it on you.”
Fighting the blush that was creeping up
her neck, she tried to erase from her mind the titillating image of Tyler
giving her mouth-to-mouth. She pulled the gloves off. “Thanks. I might give it
a try.”
“Good. Nothing better for Abigail than
having a strong mama.”
Her brow furrowed and she quickly looked
away. “I am a strong mama,” she muttered, stalking quickly out of the room. Great,
another man who thinks I’m a weak victim. Just what I needed.
He grabbed her arm to stop her. “Wait,
Bess. I didn’t mean it that way. You are strong. You’re right. You’re raising
your kid on your own. You’re more determined and selfless than any 24-year old
I’ve ever known.”
Bess cursed the tears welling in her
eyes.
“Hey,” he said softly, brushing a stray
tear from cheek. “You are strong,” he said again. “You’re a survivor.”
How did he know that? How had he figured that out without even
knowing what she had survived?
With his finger, he lifted her chin a
little. “I’m just overly protective. First time I got into a fight at school,
it was over my sister, you know.”
“Your sister was younger than you?” Bess
asked.
“Older, actually. She got pregnant in
high school. Some kid in my kindergarten class made some comment about it and
they couldn’t pull me off him fast enough. It pretty much stayed that way till
I graduated from high school.”
Curious, Bess cocked her head to the
side. “Did she keep the baby?”
“Oh, yeah. Mom pretty much raised my
niece like her own so that my sister could stay in
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