Page 35 of Sucker Punch Drunk Love

“I’ll admit, at first I wasn't. He didn't really have much to say about my mother, just that he was glad that I came. Then he was glad to hear I was doing something with my life. Meanwhile, I'm staring at the sole reason I’d never felt stability in my life. Bounced from home to home with people who didn’t give a fuck about me. That really does something to you, ya know? I don’t know how that man fucking lives with himself, meanwhile I’m drenched in guilt for not even trying to step in,” rubbing my palm across my face, trying to erase the image of her lifeless body out my head.

“It was like staring at an empty shell. And I fucking came from that. Growing up, I never really had a sense of self, and the only thing I know about myself is this shit? I don’t know, I was just…hollow. I don’t even know if it helped or made things worse.”

“Did you ask him why he did it?”

“I couldn't help it. I felt like Ideservedto know. Not that any reason would have satisfied me. But that changed my entire life. It tore my family apart, and I wasn’t sure I could move own without there being a reason. Turns out, my mother had been planning to leave him. But so much of his identity was tied up having control over her, that in that moment, the version of himself hethoughthe was, was ending. I’ll probably never forgive him. Told him as much. But I don’t know him or care enough about him to hate him. I just told him to never contact me again, and honestly, I’m better for it.” It was understandable that she was quiet, but honestly the reason I hated talking about myself.

“What are you gonna psychoanalyze me now?” Trying to find humor where there was none.

“No. Josue that was a sad story. I’m just trying to process it.”

“Yeah, well don’t take all day,” I joked. “Honestly, I’m just wondering how I could just fucking sit there like an idiot while my mom was getting hurt. I wish I had been older, or bigger. Maybe I could have done more?—”

“Don’t go blaming yourself. You don’t deserve that,” as she reached for my hand, interlocking her fingers with mine, her long fingernails a huge contrast to the fist that had knocked someone out a week ago.

“Doing that is like me blaming myself for staying in an abusive relationship. It doesn’t help?—”

“Well, that’s different.”

“No, it’s not. I used to blame myself for not being lovable enough. By my mom. Eventually by my grandma, who by the time I turned thirteen, had had enough of raising everyone else’s kids. Then I blamed myself for looking for love and acceptance in all the wrong places. Places I only sought because they feltfamiliar. I don’t think I’d ever felt a healthy love until—” as she stopped mid-sentence, leaving me in suspense.

“Not even worth bringing up right now,” she finally said. “Just know, I’m as equally fucked up,” she admitted.

“Must be a requirement or something,” I laughed. “Here's to being orphans of the totally fucked up crew.” Again, trying to bring light to where there once was none. When it didn't spread, I unlaced my hand from hers, pinching her chin and making her look in my direction.

“Hey, before you, I’d never been curious about the idea of a woman wanting to fight. I don’t even like tv that much, because the amount of sexual violence makes me want to vomit. But you changed my mind. There’s gotta be something special about you to make me do that,” I admitted. “I’m starting to think all women should know how to fight. Beats the alternative.”

“Well, I don’t think realistically I could win a fight against someone like you?—”

“Get the fuck outta here,” I dismissed.

“You’re just really heavy, so the best I know I can do is get you to the floor.”

“Honestly Medina, I’d probably just let you win,” I boldly chanted. That made her curious, as she raised an eyebrow to me and asked, “Why?”

“Girl, who the hell would fight off a pretty woman on top of them. That’s like, every man’s fucking dream. Or perhaps even a woman’s dream too, ‘cuz I’m still not over someone threatening you with a good time to lick you like a tootsie pop—” unable to hide my enthusiasm.

“You're still on that?” finally gathering a smile from her end.

“Oh my god, I know it's wrong. But I keep forgetting you're into women, and I can’t help thinking how fucking strong you gotta be to be between those thighs. I know I don’t always showit, but I’m a fucking dog and you bad as fuck,” I admitted with my whole chest.

“What happened to me being justaight?” she teased.

“¡Ay, dios!?* A man can only hold out so long. I just deny it because I'm professional.” Thankfully, the confession made her laugh more than make her uncomfortable. “I swear I was gonna fucking lose it when we shared that motel together, and I woke up to you rubbing one out?—”

“Oh my god, you were awake for that? I thought you were sound asleep, and I was so anxious, I couldn’t think of anything else to relax me enough to sleep,” she confessed.

“I swear Medina, it’s like you don’t even try. That’s the hardest thing about training you. My mind knows what to do, but it’s like the rest of me doesn’t get the message.”

“I don't know. You don’t always give me that impression ever since you started training me. It’s almost like I became revolting to you overnight?—”

“Ma, I’m not blind,” I interrupted. “Out of respect, I’m not gonna ogle and stare at your tits all day, butJesus. The things I would’ve done to you the first day we met would’ve had you turnt out. We wouldn’t have achieved nothing but being dehydrated, so it’s a fucking good thing you had discipline. Because somebody had to have it for the both of us,” I joked.

“Well, I’m happy that eventually you saw something there.”

“Sierra, I know I didn’t show it in the beginning, but I’m fucking honored you even thought I was worth considering given my record. I know I wouldn’t be an amateur fighter’s first choice.”

“You’ve literally won three titles,” she dismissed.