Page 25 of Saviour
I shake my head again and look over at the boxing gloves.
“Come with me.”
I pull her to the edge of the ring and hold the ropes open for her so she can climb out and down the steps. I grab a pair of boxing gloves and pads and head over to the mats, standing in front of the mirrors.
“You’re just going to practise hitting these pads for a bit, okay? That’s it.” She nods and stands in front of me, her fingers wringing around her plait again.
“You may have to tie your hair up, just so it’s out of the way.”
She freezes slightly and watches me, contemplating something. After a few seconds, and whatever decision she was toying with made up in her mind, she nods and unties the band holding her plait together.
She weaves it out with her fingers and then throws her head over, bending at the waist and pulling her hair together on the top of her head.
I watch her closely, trying to focus on her fingers, weaving the brown band around her hair rather than her ass sticking out. Once she’s finished tying her hair into a ponytail, she stands back up straight and gathers all of her hair into her hands, parting it into three strands and plaiting those, just like she had resting on her shoulder. And the time before that. And the first day I met her.
I make a mental note to one day ask her again why she always plaits her hair.
Once she fastens another hairband from around her wrist and puts her hands on her hips and looks at me, I smile again. I’ve been up to my neck in dread for the past five months, but since Rori appeared, I can’t help but smile. Despite my family and friends missing.
I must call Emerson back later.
“Give me your hand.”
Rori complies without a fight and extends her arm. I slide a boxing glove over her hand and strap it at the wrist where the Velcro sits. I pull it as tight as I can so they don’t fall off. Her hands are so small the glove is bound to fly off. I do the same to her other hand and instruct her to mould her hands into where the grips are.
I strap the pads around both of my hands and then hold them up in front of her. She looks clueless and her arms look weighed down by the gloves. I’ll have to get her a pair of her own.
“First, we need to get your stance correct. Hold your arms out in front of you. Place your left hand just under your jaw and your right as if you’re answering a phone.”
Listening carefully, she does as I say.
“You don’t want to have your hands too high up that you can’t see, but they need to be close enough that you can protect your face, okay? Tuck in your chin to protect yourself.”
She nods, looking down at the gloved hands and then back at me.
“Okay, left foot forward and right foot a little further back. With your left hand, reach out and hit my right pad. This is a jab.” She hesitates and I nod in encouragement. “You don’t even have to do it hard, just do it so you can become familiar with the motion.”
Rori’s left hand comes out and with a weak attempt, hits my right pad.
“Good. Now when you withdraw your hand, you always return it to your first position. As you’re drawing your hand back, switch it with your right and cross hit my left pad. Got it?”
“I think so.” She nods, raising her hands to get into her boxing stance.
Without a cue, Rori’s hand hits the pad harder this time, quickly followed by the other.
I smile and nod and tell her to keep going and with every punch, they get harder, stronger, faster.
“Good, now let's try hooks.”
I open my arms, the pads facing inwards so she has to bend and move her hips with each punch. After a few minutes, Rori stops, a little out of breath, and smiles at me. A genuine smile.
“That was fun.”
“Wanna keep going?” I ask and her smile gets brighter.
We spend up to almost an hour, just Rori hitting the pads in different combinations. Jabs, hooks, and uppercuts and she even has a go hitting the punching bag and it’s not until she’s covered in a sheen of sweat and her arms grow tired that she holds her hands up.
I take the pads off and undo the Velcro of her boxing gloves, the crackle satisfying in the silent room.
