Purple-white Grass

My nose is still bleeding into the paper towel she brought out to the playground. And every so often, when I breathe in it stings and causes my eyes to water, but I’m all smiles. I can’t help, but smile. Julie is standing in front of me, walking me through her boxing stance.

 

“You’ve already went through the hard part. Taking a punch in the face and realizing it isn’t the end of the world.”

 

She says I need to keep my chin down. Keep my hands up. Plant and throw off of my back foot.

 

“It’s not like you don’t know where they are going to be throwing punches. They’re going to go straight for your pathetic face. This is what my brother taught me.”

 

It’s just so sweet, Julie, an eight year old angel from a wealthy family, teaching me, a poor mongrel boy how to box. Maybe she’s training me to be her bodyguard some day, maybe a lowly minion. I just want to cry.

 

“Now Blake is just dirty, I saw the whole thing. He just waited for you to turn around and blindsided you. But he doesn’t know how to fight. His hands were all horizontal to the ground. What did he say to get you to turn around?”

 

“Hey fuckface.”

 

“Well you should have probably had an idea what was coming. Step back before you turn around next time.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Julie smiles, “You’re not soft.”  And the bell rings signifying five more minutes of recess. “Okay before we go in get up and get in the stance.”

 

I still feel a little woozy and my eye is starting to swell. The grass of the playground looks bleached and almost purple, I must have kept my eyes open when I went down.

 

“Okay, I’m going to throw a punch, real slow. Push it out of the way with your left and move your head to the left, Okay?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Good, I’m going to do it faster now. “

 

And she throws and I block.

 

“Do you feel like a loser?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You’ve got big strong hands you could be a fighter. You know what they say about big hands don’t you?”

 

“No.”

 

“Big hands mean big….feet. Now you punch, straight and about half-speed.”

 

It feels weird, but I throw a  jab, which she blocks and bobs behind. Throwing a slightly faster jab I block.  We both turn and throw and block again.

 

“You’re not a loser.”

 

“It’s going to take awhile to convince me of that.”

 

“Do you think if you beat him up you’d feel better?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Just punch him in the throat.. Punch his eyes shut. Rearrange his face. Make him look so bad nobody ever wants to fight you again.”

 

I smile, I really can’t help it. I know this is going to be my happiest moment for a long, long time. It’s almost like we’re dancing. And she’s smiling too. Her braces all chrome and reflecting like tiny waves in the air between us. 

The end of recess bell rings and she keeps moving, throwing. I have to remember this so as she throws a right I drop my hands and it comes right into my nose. I might faint, I’m just that happy.

 

“I was going to do that jerk. Punch me.”

 

“I can’t hit a girl.”

 

“I may be a girl, but I’m also your best friend.”

 

“Okay, next break.”

 

“Promise?”

 

“I Promise.”