'Don't worry' he says to me, as he straps on his gloves, 'I won't hit hard'. His arms have fought in French boxing circles, but not for many years. I feel my shoulders pull back, mouth twitch, as if I had my ego bruised, jumping around like a silly red robin, puffing out my chest, a hear thoughts 'oh yeah, well, well...' I falter and laugh, well what ? This man is 10 times my strength. I persevere, I feel like the fool. But he is the show off.
We start punching, he is so measured, so controlled, his body is beautiful. 'don't you dare try and show off madeleine, you idiot, he'll see straight through you'. We talk about why we are here, what we 'do', how funny we look together. He shows me how to angle my arms, twist with my body to hit harder. I practice. This feels better. 'So.. an artist' He ponders 'You do have a troubled mind then ?'
Lips sealed. I hit him harder.
It is time for routines: Left Jab, left, left right, upper cut, throw, duck, follow through. Now inverted. His eyes search the room, a little frantic, needing an example. He try's to perform the set, but stops after the first few hits. Faltering, his eyes quiver a little. The instructor repeats the set, 'I cannot hear him', he mumbles. He try's again, forgetting the routine and getting flustered, not looking at me 'I cannot do this.. I cannot even remember the pattern. 'Yes you can,' I tell him. I start reciting the set as he throws, accentuating the presence of my pads, hitting back harder to build a rhythm. Slowly, he completes a whole routine.
Yes, well I probably shouldn't talk about fight club - but I need to exercise the power of my memory, if it is to be my asset in fighting circles.
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